


His Return

by GGHalcyon (gqepicentre)



Category: Mad Max Series (Movies), Mad Max: Fury Road
Genre: A Happy Ending, A new world, Enter the Void, F/M, Goddess, Nux Lives, Nux Reborn, Nux and Capable make love, Nux doesn't have cancer, Nux haunts Capable in her dream, Nux returns to Capable, Spiritual, The Citadel, The Green Place, original idea
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-06-21
Updated: 2017-12-28
Packaged: 2018-04-05 10:26:02
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 11
Words: 25,334
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4176354
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/gqepicentre/pseuds/GGHalcyon
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>NUX/CAPABLE. Nux's dead body is found by a wandering healer and his apprentice. They revive him and help reunite him with the woman he loves. This is Nux's journey to return to Capable.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Author's Note: The first few chapters will set up the Miras Tribe and the ritual to revive Nux; afterwards it will turn into primarily Nux/Capable chapters. I do not own Nux or Capable or Mad Max. I do, however, own Miras the Goddess of Wanderers, Utsaah, the Elevated Healer, and his apprentice in this story—they are my Original Characters. This story is a bit 'out there' and not 'norm', but stay with me, and I promise it'll be worth it! Thank you. – G.G.

CHAPTER ONE

"Utsaah, why do we not leave this man's body here? Why him?"

"Child, what the spirits show is true. This man's path has not yet ended, and have led us here to bring him back to his path."

The child looked up at the elderly healer and down at the lifeless body of a young man, pale and bloodied. It had taken them hours to remove the man's body from under the rubble of the fallen rocks and crumpled vehicles, and to move him to a leveled ground for their observation.

"He's dead, there's nothing we can do. He's just another broken man!" The child explained in frustration, nudging the man's body lightly on the side of his shoulder with his bare feet. "Look! He is as lifeless as the others we've found in this death site!"

Utsaah gave the child berating frown of disapproval.

"Boy, it is no greater act than to mistreat the body of a man who has been chosen!" Utsaah pointed a finger at the young child, who looked at him wearily and took a step away from the body lying on the ground in front of them.

The child bit his lip and nodded his head. He still did not fully understand how the Spirit of Miras, Goddess of the Wanderers, chose who it was that they were to save. He wondered if the Miras spoke to Utsaah through dreams or if she provided signs that only an Elevated Healer could follow. The child wondered if he would be able to learn the secrets of their tribe when he grew older and completed his training. He knew he had many years left, but as the days grew longer and the sun hotter, he started to wonder if the path of to become an Elevated Healer was really one that he should follow.

"How can you be certain he's the one to be saved?" The child asked, looking at the body in front of them, and then averting his gaze to their surroundings and noting the other dead bodies around them. They had spent days looking through the wreckage and uncovering many bodies from the rubble until Utsaah exclaimed with assertiveness that they've found a Chosen.

To the child's frustration, the Elevated Healer did not answer him, but simply continued on with his tasks. The child sighed, defeated. He knew that if Utsaah had led them to this man's body under the guides of the Goddess, then it was his task to assist him in ensuring that they help in making sure the man lives. He just hoped that soon Utsaah would answer his questions.

"Come here, child," Utsaah ushered the child to hunch down next to the side of the body. Both of them studied the body closely. The elderly healer pointed his hands at the dead man's chest and noted the markings there.

"What is it?" The child leaned forward and tried his best to guess to himself what the markings—clearly carved upon his chest and created through scarring meant. The unknown man's face was also marred by scar engravings, which he clearly could make was to match that of a skull.

"Utsaah, what do these marking mean? I've never seen them before!" He asked again.

"This, my child, is a sign of the War Boys."

"War Boys?"

"They are the vessels of a ruler not far from here. They are his army, and these markings are their signs of their acceptance of being the vessel, the automaton of a man of evil."

"Do all of them have these?" The child curiously traced the marking on the man's pale chest. They were intricate carvings, some older than the others, and appeared deep. "Is it some kind of thing?"

"It is the engine of the vehicles they ride," Utsaah explains, "It is their markings of choice, such as our people choose our markings."

The healer pointed to the child's cheeks and also his own, which were marred by a series of black swirling patterned tattoos with their intricate scripts in writing. At the age of five the menn of the Miras Tribe were tattooed with the scriptures and symbols of the Goddess Miras, whom they worship.

The Miras tribe would go forth and complete their paths as healers of the barren wasteland, often in groups of two or four, often including one Elevated Healer, a person who spoke to Miras directly, and an apprentice to take their place.

Outsiders called them 'reanimators' base on the legends and whispers about their abilities to bring people back from the dead. Some referred to them as 'ghosts' since those who encounter them often would see them disappear as quickly as they have appeared, with no trace of where they came from or gone too. The child was curious to see how it was that they brought the Chosens back from the dead.

"Will his markings remain when we awaken him, Utsaah?"

The Elevated Healer shook his head. "When he awakens, his body will be fully healed, and these scars will be gone and any ailment on his soul will be cast out."

"The scars...they'll disappear."

"Yes, child. He will be War Boy no more."

"Will he remember how he died?... His past?"

Utsaah nodded, "They will remain, but he will also glimpse into his future."

The Chosens were men who died with unfinished paths, often times taken from the world before they ever felt the true blossoms of love, or so Utsaah had told the child in the case of this man they were to revive.

"Will be feel pain, when we begin the ritual?"

"To feel pain will mean to live, both in mind, body and soul, my child."

The child touched the intricate carvings on the man's chest again, curious to know who he was and what his past may have been. Most importantly he wondered who it was that he would be returning to, and who was shedding tears for his death.

TBC


	2. Chapter 2

CHAPTER 2

Utsaah and the Child

Hours had passed since they found the body of the Chosen and the sky had hues of red and orange as the sun prepared to set. Utsaah and his apprentice found a nearby cave to settle in and shielded themselves from the sand storms that often frequented the area during nightfall. Although it was yet to be dark, they prepared a campfire in order to obtain heat as the temperature dropped.

The child looked up from the campfire he created and watched as the healer prepared the body of the Chosen. Utsaah positioned the body of the War Boy close to the flames for illumination, and in the ancient tongue of the Miras Tribe began to chant and pray, as his hands hovered over the body. The child remembered that this was the first step in the awakening. "We pray to the Goddess to breathe into him his spirit and to guide him away from the darkness," he recalls the Healer explaining to him.

The child stood next to Utsaah as he prayed, and looked down at the War Boy's body. The War Boy was set on the ground, motionless and pale, his eyes closed, his arms placed closely to each of his side. He remained clothed in the same garbed he died in; pieces of his pants were torn, and crusted by dried blood and dust. It surprised the child that somehow this War Boy was not chard or burned like some of the bodies they had found in the death site.

"You see, it is because Miras knew, she saved him for a greater purpose," Utsaah had told him.

Utsaah finished his prayer and looked down at the boy next to him. Their eyes met and with a tilt of his head he ushered the boy to get the herbs and potions he carried in his bag. Without a word, the boy did as told and brought the Healer's bag to him.

The Healer and the boy knelt beside the Chosen. The boy watched as the Healer retrieved a jar of red clay, a packet of dried herbs and flowers of the past, a vile of mother's milk and venom.

"Let us proceed…" Utsaah said.

The child nodded his head as he grabbed the jar of red clay, opened it and took a dollop of the wet clay in his fingers.

"Goddess Miras, we are here to aid you in the revival of this Chosen man from the dark abyss and into the light of his path… See onto him that his spirit returns from the ashes and be rebuilt into clay…"

The child rubbed the red clay on the War Boy's wounds and scar.

He covered every scar, wound and ailment that the body had. With small hands the child rubbed the red clay over the dead man's face, outlining the scars on his forehead, nose, cheeks and lips, as well as the engravings on his chest, as well as the lumps of tumors upon his shoulder.

In silence, the boy removed the remaining clothes of the chosen until he was fully naked before their eyes. He continued on to rub the clay on the rest of his body, noting that there were more carvings and signs of self-mutilation on the War Boy's thighs and legs, long lines and zigzag and patterns. Afterwards, the child closed the jar and wiped the remainder of the clay into the sand and then sat yet again next to the Healer.

"These scars and weaknesses, cast them out, and with your power make him anew, with the strength to venture this barren place into the light, my Goddess."

Utsaah bowed his head and the boy did as well, and they are silent, until the Healer continued on, as he grabbed the bag of herbs.

Opening the bag, he poured its contents into his palms and blew into them.

"Goddess Miras, our offering to you the remembrance of the life that grew and thrived in this barren world. They are to signify the beauty of what was lost and to remember hope to remain. As we are all to wither, so does life come anew, and the cycle continues until we are claimed."

The Healer placed a trail of the herbs down the Chosen's chest, and set a large amount close to where his heart would be.

"My child, the knife," Utsaah mentioned, this time extending his hand to receive a small sharp knife and a small vile of mother's milk mixed with venom. "Your hand," he tells the child, who obediently presented his hand and extended it towards the Healer with his palms open.

"Goddess Miras, we offer to you the milk of sustenance and life and the venom of death, and the blood that courses through us. So does life is renewed in the Chosen, and so does he reawaken to live until death once more. So does his bleed as we bleed, and breathe as we breathe."

Utsaah took the knife and with a quick motion of the blade, made a cut in the child's palm to draw blood. The child took the vial and squeezed into it three droplets of his blood, and then took hold of the same knife. The Healer then extended his palm to the boy, and the boy did the same light incision on older man's hands.

He watch as Utsaah took the vial and squeezed into it three droplets of his blood as well. He then closed the vial and shook it. The white color of the liquid turned to red, then a shade of purple, and then white once more.

The child and Utsah both wrapped their hands quickly with a strap of cloth to ease the bleeding and proceeded with the ritual.

He stood up and knelt down close to the above the head of the Chosen. He opened the dead man's mouth and watched as Utsah poured the contents of the vial into the man's mouth. The child then closed the man's mouth and tilted his head upwards to ensure the contents do not come out.

They sat there for a brief silence until Utsah stood up and as the child cradled the Chosen's head in his hands, Utsah chanted in their ancient tongue of their people.

"Chamaran shanto makito wa nai

Chamaran vikto suda kan ro

Miras obtolus deus et mo

Viratus sanus suda naievai "

Utsaah and his apprentice closed their eyes and chanted again once more and then remained silent. The child was startled when the Healer called his name and he opened his eyes.

The healer nodded his head.

"It is done, child, and now all we must do is wait."

"I do not see the transformation yet, Utsaah…"

"It will occur in due time. For now we wait until the Goddess has found his spirit and led him from the darkness. "

"How will we know if it is working? That we succeeded?"

"Trust me child, you will know for he will move and he will speak. But as of now, his soul will slowly awaken into reality and it will wander until he returns to this body."

"Wander?"

"The soul reaches outward to those it deems to see, and to show itself in the lives of those it desires."

"And from then on, will the Chosen return?"

Utsaah laughed at the child's queries and eagerness to discover the results. He doesn't answer any more questions and he is certain his apprentice see his too.

"We will keep watch of the Chosen one, and we will take turns doing so. For now, you rest, child. I will awake you when it is your turn."

The child huffed and wanted to go against his teacher, but realized that fatigue did overcome him.

"Utsaah, what if—" He had more questions.

Utsaah cut him off, "Sleep child."

The Healer watched as the young boy settled himself near the fire. The child lay on his side, his head cradled with the bag they had carried. He faced the campfire and closed his eyes.

The Healer studied the young boy for a moment, smiling to himself at how much the child had grown up to be someone like a son to him. He cared for the boys wellbeing and was adamant that he would do his best to train the child to be an Elevated Healer, like himself.

Utsaah then turned his attention the War Boy's body, lying before him. He was certain the effects of the Goddess's powers would soon become visible, but he had no choice but to simply remain awake and observant. The body of the War Boy was still very pale, and his wounds remained. Utsaah watched and continued to chant in this head. His decades of being a Elevated Healer taught him that at that very moment the War Boy's soul was being awakened and that he would stand witness to the pain of his death, and accept the gift the Goddess Miras extended to him.

It was all just a matter of time, and he was certain that it would be days until the Chosen was healed and fully awake.

Nux

He doesn't remember where or how it began, but somehow he found himself floating in the abyss of a pitch black existence. He could not tell where his body began and where it ended; he could move or touch anything. He was just 'being'. It was a feeling that shocked him, surprised him and for a split second caused him to panic. Where was he? What was going on?

In the darkness he could not tell whether his eyes were closed or open, and in the silence he could not hear his breathing or a beating of his heart. He could feel nothing but simple settle in the truth that he existed. And this was a realization he was uncertain was a blessing or a curse.

Is this death?

The question permeated within his being. As he tried with all his power to move, to feel his body react… to feel his muscles and bones shift—there was just nothing at all, he could not move nor remain steady, there was nothing to move.

As he pondered his current predicament, he saw before his very eyes flashes of color in the darkness. First like faraway stars glistening in the distant, and then closer to his being until the colors were like fireworks surrounding him. The colors turned into the vivid replay of his last moments, and were snippets in the canvas before him.

In these replays he saw glimpses of her… her bright red hair against the paleness of his scarred chest, the softness of her fingertips as they caressed his face, and the plumpness of her smiling lips as she kissed him… He remembers her so brightly that it blinds him. The memory of their short and fleeting time together laid heavy on him that he begged whatever god watching that he could close his eyes and hide from the memories instead of being a passive observer. And as her images came, so did they disappear and were replaced by the last moment of his life.

Witness me...

He watched as he acknowledged the understanding in her eyes and in the same quickness how he saved them by ending sacrificing his life in a fiery explosion and crumbled haze.

Then it began... the pain that emanated from his core, spreading slowly deep in the recesses of his being. It continues on and grows and grows as the same images replay, until all around him he sees only the red of blood surrounding him. The pain intensifies until the red transcends into light and then the lull of blackness once more.

This is death…

A voice in him whispers as the pain dissipated and be felt nothing again.

This was no Valhalla. He had expected Valhalla to be a place of brightness, happiness and perhaps a new life in peace, but instead what he awakens to or exist in is a state of nothingness and of being at the same time.

The flashes of images cycled again and again, first the silence and the darkness, and then the scenes of the woman who showed him humanity and love, and then the pain of his sacrifice. It is bittersweet at first, knowing that his death was for a greater purpose, and that with it he hoped she lived. Yet it was also a sorrowful pain because he knew that he would never see her again and that he wished he could have embraced her once more, and deepens the love that began.

Capable…

Her name was a whisper in the darkness, a mantra and a prayer.

To Nux, if this was death, then so be it, as long as he kept memories of her and of why he died to save her.

He felt himself fading again, until silence and blackness embraced him, and his thoughts began to drift into the nothingness of the abyss once more.

Capable…

And then once more he is engulfed in bright white light—a flash taking over his entire being and he hears a voice, distant and yet close…

"Chamaran shanto makito wa nai/

Be awake, your spirit, and travel to life…."

It calls to him and pulls him out of the place of pain, and in his state of being he follows it.

TBC

A/N: The next chapter will have Capable and Nux.


	3. Chapter 3

Capable

Capable looked outside the window to the bright sunlight and the sound of the people of the Citadel chanting their praises to their new leader, Furiosa. It became a morning ritual to all the inhabitants, the chanting and the beating drums, as the people both poor, sickened, of health and even the War Boys, surgeons and Feeders would participate. It was a way for all of the inhabitants to remember the path that was taken and the sacrifices that were made for them to be in their state of peace.

The Citadel was no longer a machine of singular power, led by a corrupt leader whose sole purpose was his own immortality, but instead it became a society led by a powerful woman who ensured that all, no matter their rank and status, was fed and given water. This peace in the Citadel, while only a mere few weeks, drastically changed the way of life of its people.

For the first time in decades, the people of the Citadel were free men and women who were eager to contribute to the continuity of their homeland under the assurance that they would be fed and provided water substantially. To Capable, this peace and uplift in spirits should have brought her the highest of highs and happiness, but instead as she looked and observed the new Citadel bellow her room, she only felt a pain in her heart. As she watched the young War Boys, mere children, beat at the drums, she could only be reminded of the one man whom she gave her heart to.

"Nux…" she whispered his name in remembrance, looking at the goggles in her hands. They were the only physical object she had to remember him by. She kept them close to her when she slept and when she awoke she always would find herself holding them near. She held them against her chest and closed her eyes as the memories of him began to flood her mind.

"Capable, you can't stay in here forever."

Capable opened her eyes and turned around at the voice of Toast who stood outside her room door. She knew exactly why she came to visit her, it was a common occurrence of late that one of her fellow Wives—now known as 'Sisters' to one another —would come to her room in hopes to get her to leave and join them.

"I'll stay here for now, Toast."

"No, you don't!" Toast said. She took three full strides until she stood next front of Capable with a hand on her hip. "You've been wallowing up here all depressed, when you should be outside rejoicing that we're free! Capable, things are changing at the Citadel and you should be a part of it!"

Capable knew how right Toast was, but could not muster herself to venture outside just yet, not when the crowds were out and about, and when the music reigned so loudly to remind her of all their accomplishments and all that was lost.

She often would go out in the late night, when the Citadel was quiet and most of its people were in bed resting. The need to be surrounded by people, to be bombarded by greetings and questions regarding how she and the other wives survived the wrath of Immortan Joe never came to her. No… Capable decided that she needed time to reflect on what happened, needed time to settle, to get back her sanity.

Capable returned to her view of the Citadel and its inhabitants. People were working harder than before. They worked to cultivate the grounds bellow where the fountain of water would fall, often times late into the night. They were already eager to create a type of farm where crops would grow—any crops would grow—and the effort was only on such short time frame. The people of the Citadel were relishing in their freedom and the return of life.

Toast brushed off her sister's silence and stood next to Capable and leaned forward, her chin resting on her crossed arms on the window ledge. She did her best to follow Capable's gaze, wondering what was going through her mind. To see Capable in such a slump was something she wasn't used to. Often times their situation would be the opposite, in which Toast would be upset and Capable would do her best—and always successfully—cheer her up and bring her back to life. A small voice of concern told Toast that perhaps this time, she wouldn't be so successful in helping Capable get better, and that the decision to move on lied solely on her.

"It's amazing how things change so fast, when we know we're free."

"It sure does," Capable responded, not wanting to be reminded of the reality of it. She dreaded the idea that she was free, and yet she could not celebrate that freedom with the one man who had hoped to celebrate it with.

Toast noticed her melancholy.

"Are you still thinking about that War Boy?"

"No…I was just thinking about how different things are now."

"No, you weren't, Capable. You were thinking about him—'Nux' wasn't it?"

There was a pause.

Toast placed an arm around Capable, consoling her as she could already tell that it was a very sensitive topic. She could tell that her sister was fighting away the tears. "It's okay, you know? It's okay if you still cry for him. Don't listen to what Dag says. What you feel is your heart—you need time to grieve."

Capable straightened herself and turned to Toast, curious and confused. "What is Dag saying?"

"Oh, Capable, just that she's worried about you—just like all of us. You stay here most of the days now. You are hardly outside, when we're all enjoying just being free and not being prisoned. Look at you, you hardly eat like before. It's worrisome."

"And what else, Toast? What else are they, especially Dag, saying?" Capable stepped away from Toast's embrace, and sat on the edge of her bed, placing the goggles on her lap. Toast followed and stood in front of her.

"Come out with me, Capable. Let's go out for a walk, let me show you how beautiful it is outside now." Toast tried to change the subject, but Capable didn't seem to be listening.

"Let me guess…" Capable continued, a hint of bitterness and sadness in her voice, "Dag is saying I've lost my mind because she thinks that I still believe he's still alive somewhere out there. She's saying that I'm overreacting and that I should just be thankful he saved us and let it go because he was just some War Boy. Is that it? You can tell me, Toast. You don't have to try to hide any of that from me."

Toast sighed and sat next to Capable on the bed and looked at her in the eyes. She could see that the red head's eyes were becoming teary with unshed tears and that she is struggling to keep them from falling. She always saw Capable as the strongest of them all, and seeing her this way made her angry and sad.

She felt angry because somehow a War Boy had to take her heart and then die in order for them to live, and she didn't doubt that what he and Capable shared was something special—maybe love, or maybe something so precious in the hell that was Immortan Joe's wrath and rage.

She was sad because she knew that this woman, who was more like a sister to her than any of the other Wives had been upset over the War Boy's death for weeks. Toast remembered how adamant Capable was that they return to the sight of the explosion to check for the War Boy. She remembered in her tears how Capable had explained that she didn't feel in her heart that he was dead, although she was not certain if Capable meant in person or in spirit. Had she been in such shock and sadness that she had lost, even for a brief moment, her sanity? Didn't they all experience that in a way—having gone through one of the most traumatic days of their lives in their mission to reach The Green Place and escaping Immortan Joe?

Toast recollected the many years she knew Capable, and in those years she had always considered her the most spiritual and strong of all the Wives right next to Splendid. Capable always had strong instincts and had the knack to know when they were in trouble, or when something was at bay. Unlike the others she always was the best at reading people; they all agreed she could read people's hearts. With that in mind, Toast wondered if there were any truth to Capable's instinct telling her Nux survived the blast. Not once in their time together did Capable's seemingly clairvoyant abilities fail them, or yielded falsehood. The audacity of her belief that Nux lived was so unlikely true, that Toast along with the others have questioned among themselves the mental state of Capable, and whether or not she was in a state of shock and grief.

"Do…do you still believe… I mean, is what Dag saying true?" Toast asked, studying Capable's face and trying her best not to upset her more.

Capable looked down at her hands, as she took a very long and heavy breath. "Toast… I have lost many people in my life, people close to me—all in the hands of Joe. Death is something that I've always felt so deeply… In here," she touches her chest right where her heart was, "I feel it here and it is an aching pain, that leaves you hollowed, and even if you try to ignore it, it remains, because a small part of you has died too. "

"Oh Capable…" Toast was trying her best not to shed tears as she saw Capable's tears falling; she wanted to be strong for her sister. She wanted to be a support.

"With Nux… his death crushed me, and saddens me… and it scares me too."

"He died to save us, he was a good man."

"He was," Capable agreed, "And it scares me because I know what losing someone close feels like, and somehow in my heart there is a part of me that believes that he didn't die in that explosion."

"Capable but you saw—"

"I know, Toast, I saw it—watched him stare right into me as he asked me to stand witness to his sacrifice. And, yet I have this feeling in my heart that he lives… and I know how crazy it sounds, and perhaps that is exactly it… "

"You loved him and you shared something so special and so strong that it remains a part of you." Toast took Capable's hands in hers, causing her to look up and meet her concerned gaze. She gathered Capable in a tight hug, and then pulled her back slightly to look into her teary eyes.

"Capable… do you think that perhaps the reason you feel he's still alive is because…maybe you're with child?"

The red head shook her head, sadly, "I had thought that—in hopes that maybe in our night together we created a child that could live in this new world, that was created out of love—but I bled weeks ago…"

Toast hugged Capable again and felt her sob against her. After a moment, Capable continued on, "He made me feel human, he cared for me and understood me and washed away the filth that was Immortan Joe. He gave me the strength to continue on and fight for our future. He…"

"Shhhh, it's all right Capable, shhhh, it's okay." Toast rubbed Capable's back, calming her. She held her sister until her crying subsided and her body stopped shaking. She then pulled back and gave a reassuring smile to Capable.

"It must have been a beautiful feeling to feel loved, to be touched in love."

Capable returned her smile lightly, "It's something that I'll never forget."

"Don't ever forget it, and hold it dear and close in your heart. It's the light that stays in here," she pointed at her chest where the heart is, "and I'm sure in her own way perhaps Dag is just showing her concern. And I won't lie to you and say that your statement of Nux surviving that explosion doesn't worry me sometimes…" Toast prayed her candidness would not upset Capable. She studied her carefully and waiting for her response.

The redhead dried her eyes and smiled at her warmly. "I don't want you to worry."

"You know that's impossible. I'm always going to worry for you. I care for you, you know that."

"I just need time to grieve, to make sense of it all. Our journey was not an easy one, and for the first time, I find myself questioning so many things."

"This is all new to us; to be free, to know that Joe can't hurt us anymore, he can't use us anymore. And…Capable, I need you with me, to stay strong for us. It's just, I don't see us creating this new life here at the Citadel if you don't get better…or—" Toast bit away her tears.

Capable took her hands in hers. "I'll stay strong for you, and I'm here, don't worry. I won't fall into the darkness, but I only ask one thing."

"What is it?"

"That you allow me my time to…make sense of how I feel, to be alone for a little while, when I need it, without being worried over it. I don't want you and the others to worry about me, when I know I'll be fine."

"Capable, you don't look fine, and you know we'll still worry. But I can promise to give you your space, and not have one of us bother you so often in the day. I know you need your time to think and to grieve... And you have to promise to at least leave this room and step outside and eat regularly with us from now on, Capable." Toast saw Capable about to protest, but stopped her. "You hardly come down to eat with us, or eat what I bring you here… I don't want you to waste away—you're already looking a lot thinner now."

"I promise, I will from now on. I'll have evening meal with all of you."

"Good. Then, I'll give you your peace and I'll make sure to let Dag and Cheedo know you're okay."

"Thank you, Toast."

Toast squeezed her hand in hers. "Is there any way I can still get you to come out with me even for a few minutes? Dag said that one of the seeds they planted near the bottom of the main water spout actually looked like it rooted and started to sprout! It may be some sight! Can you imagine, a green leafy thing growing at the Citadel?"

"Maybe tomorrow, I'll stay up here for now."

"And I suppose you won't be having tonight's evening meal with us?"

"I…"

"No, worries, we said tomorrow, right? I'm just glad you're up and about, even though you've been cooped in this room all day."

Toast stood up and looked down at Capable, she smiled at her once again. "You rest here and I'll bring back food and drink for you later."

Capable was about to protest, but Toast stopped her. "I'll be right back," she told her.

Capable nodded her head and watched Toast leave her room, closing the door behind her. She dried her eyes and laid down in her bed. Her eyes closed in her exhaustion and welcomed the darkness that overcame her.

When Toast arrived moments later, with a plate of food and fresh water, she was greeted with the sleeping form of her sister. She placed the food on a nearby table, covered it with a piece of cloth and stepped out of her room.

She prayed that when Capable woke up again, she would eat. It was the lease she could do.

TBC


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Nux relives his past and begins to heal.

_ Nux _

To stand witness to one’s past was an unsettling thing. Moments that were brushed off as insignificant appeared to have been the most significant after all. This was something that Nux was forced to realize as he once again watched as the vivid imagery of certain events in his past replayed in front of him. Unlike his original experience upon his awakening, he found himself transmitted into his past as an unseen observer.

He stopped questioning his very existence and situation, for it only caused him a feeling of grief and tribulation. The voice he heard may have been from the Gods—or whatever greater being watching over him, although he was uncertain. He was certain however that whatever he was, he knew that he certainly had died, and that whatever was transpiring to him was either his afterlife or path to reconciliation before he would be raised to Valhalla. 

“Sometimes before people die, their ghost remains if they left the world unfinished,” a fellow War Pup had told him once. He remembered watching with the other War Pups as a few strong War Boys carried off the body of their fellow comrade who happened to fall dead due to his illness right before taking the wheel of his vehicle.

Nux wondered if his state of limbo was caused by something similar. He had thought that by sacrificing his life to save Capable and the others that he would be warranted an easy path to Valhalah, but instead he found himself a ghost—or a spirit—in an existence he was not sure of.  _ Could this be all that there is? _  He asked himself.

Since his awakening, he found himself an invisible observant of his past life. Scenes from his life carried on in front of him, and he stood in surprised surveillance as he witnessed himself. They were scenes that he begged not to remember, and yet they appeared as clear as day. And so he stood watching them replay, a reminder of what his life had been life.

  
  
  


_ ~~~~ _

_ “You, come here!” _

_ 8 year old Nux looked up at the loud voice that pointed him out and urged him to come closer. The War Boy took the young child and shoved him closer to what looked like a large feeding box in front of him. The child looked up questioning, afraid and not sure what was to transpire. _

_ “Look there,” the War Boy pointed at the white powdered paint in the box. He took the child’s hands and placed them in the box, and he did as well. The War Boy shoved both his hands in the paint and took them out and covered his face and bare chest and expose skin in the white paint. “Now you.” _

_ Nux did as told and with small hands he dipped his hands in the paint and painted and covered his face and his bare chest. _

_ “Good,” the War Boy said. “Now here.” He handed the child a large gear smothered in darkened oil. Saying no more, the child already knew, upon looking at the black heavy rims and paint around the War Boy’s eyes what the oiled gear was for. Without any other instructions, Nux took the black thick oil from the used gear and rimmed his eyes and balled head with it. He glanced up at the War Boy, his bright blue eyes a stark contrast against the new mask he was given. _

_ “Huh, so you are a smart one!” The War Boy laughed and then ushered the quiet boy to the next que in which he would be assigned his task as a War Boy-in-training. _

_ Nux followed suite and stood behind other War Pups as they waited to be given their assignment. This was all new to him, and he was going through the motion with no question. He was still in shock after witnessing the death of his mother in his arms—his only parent and family. _

_ He was a child lost in the barren dessert and was found by the War Boys who had scoured their small make-shift village at the bottom of the Citadel. A War Boy had found Nux’s small form crying on the main streets as he tried his best to awaken his frail mother who had collapse in the broad daylight. _

_ “She’s dead, kid. There’s nothing more here for you,” The War Boy who had found him told him, already knowing how often times children who were not War Pups tended to have only one parent, or none at all to care for them. _

_ Nux had cried and yelled that his mother was only sleeping, only to be laughed at and pried from her lifeless body and carried into the War Boys’ vehicle. After much crying, he had later found himself in a state of shock and numbness, unsure of where to go and what to do. He found himself succumbing to the War Boys who had consoled him in their own way by informing him that “he won’t be alone” and that his mother’s death was the calling he “received to worship and serve Immortan Joe and gain entrance to Valhalla.” _

_ All of those words and sayings were new to the 8 year old. He was completely alone if he had not agreed to be taken by the War Boys to be trained to serve under their leader, Immortan Joe. To Nux, he was in need of guidance and a shelter. Somehow the War Boys and Immortan Joe provided that. _

_ ~~~ _

 

_ Life for the War Pup was a tedious role that required abiding by the many menial tasks they were assigned. For Nux his goal was to aid the War Boys with fixing their vehicles. He gathered the tools they needed, and stood beside them to hold their gadgets and tools if need be. Most importantly his small lite body would often be required to go underneath the vehicles to tighten or do repairs. _

_ In his life time he had witnessed many War Pups come and go before him in his role. Many were too weak to survive the many grueling hours of constant work and inhalation from the running vehicles. In some instances there were even occasions where it wasn’t uncommon that a War Pup died from the vehicle’s weight collapsing on them. It was a typical and common thing to occur, and it was for this reason that when War Pups were given the role of  _ Mechanic’s Hand _ , they were often considered to be given the shorter end of the stick. They were expected to die within a year of service, or were considered the most expendable group of War Pups. Nux knew this the moment they carved a ‘1’ on his shoulder as a child. _

_ “What does this mean?” Nux looked over at his friend, ‘Slit’ was his name and he was the only other War Pup that managed to be deemed a Mechanic’s Hand during the Choosing Ceremony. Slit was as frail as Nux, but taller in built and initially had uncommon blonde hair prior to their head being shaved. He had wild, unsteady eyes, and often scared the other War Pups, except Nux. _

_ Slit looked over at the bleeding wound on his right shoulder and then at Nux. It was the first marking they ever received on their bodies as young children of 8 years old, and both did their best not to cry during the painful event. Slit rubbed away the blood and traced the ‘1’ scrolled on his upper arm and marked within a circle. _

_ “It’s when they think we’ll die,” he said to his friend. “I heard the War Boys talking about it. These numbers are when they are betting we will die.” _

_ Nux rubbed his own scar. “’1’? As in one year?” _

_ “Yes,” Slit said, his eyes dreary and he was deep in thought. “They think we’re the weakest ones. They think we won’t survive longer than this year and so they’ll give us the worst of the jobs, the ones where it doesn’t matter if we breathe the next day or live.” _

_ It was a horrible outlook, one that Nux was still pondering. He had thought that War Pups were to be trained to be War Boys one day. He had expected that he would be a better man now that he were among the close soldiers of Immortan Joe. He wasn’t sickly, as far as he thought, he was healthy or at least in the same state as the other young boys that were taken during the Choosing Ceremony. _

_ “I don’t want to die in a year,” Nux told his friend, trying his best to hide the tears that were welling from his eyes.  He needed to be strong, he had to act tougher now, and be a man.  _

_ Slit frowned at him and shook his head, giving a sharp laugh. “Then don’t freaking die then. Keep your head up and make sure whatever you do you stay strong.” _

_ He pointed outward towards the War Boys as they arrived in their vehicles from a scavenger out in the dessert. The drums bellowed from atop the Citadel, the  _ Drum Beats _ —the War Boys whose task where to play the drums and the music for Immortan Joe—pounded on the drums to allow all of the Citadel to know the safe arrival of their War Boys. Unfortunately for Nux and Slit, they were not those War Boys who had a ‘5’ engraved on their shoulders. The two war boys prepared to gather their tools to aid the war Boys when they would drive their vehicles into the  garage after Immortan Joe made his customary welcoming speech. _

_ Nux looked on at the War Boys in longing. He needed to live to be one of those. He needed to show Immortan Joe that he was more than a Mechanics Hand and that he could become the vehicle driver, he could become one of the strongest War Boys, a ranger and a scavenger. _

_ Slit seemed to have the same idea, as he turned to his friend, patting the shorter kid on his bald head in a friendly and affectionate manner. Nux looked up at him, his eyes glistening and full of question. _

_ “Nux, we’ll be one of those War Boys one day. You’ll see. We’ll outlive them. We don’t need to be a Drumbeat. We were not born to be just safe. We’ll show them!”  _

_ Nux saw the determination in his friend’s eyes, and he felt it in his gut that yes, he was determined to live. _

_ ~~~~ _

Nux looked at his younger self, he stood closely as he watched his young War Pup self-approach the War Boys as they pulled into the garage area with tools in his hands. His young form coughed from the exhaust and the gear oils covered his tiny hands as he worked to assist the Mechanics with fixing the vehicles for the next Scavenge. Nux saw in his young self’s eyes the determination and his will to be a War Boy, to live longer than any others. He wanted not just to be a War Boy, but a Scavenger War Boy, the elite whom Immortan Joe always instructed to recover resources or escapees. 

Nux rubbed his left shoulder, the engraving of the ‘1’ was light now and surrounded by tally marks of 13 years years—marks he had carved on himself to remind him of the many years he lived and survived since we was taken to serve Immortan Joe.  Of the 13 tallies, 5 were of him as a Mechanic’s Hand, and 8 which were the thickest of tallies were of him as a Scavenger War Boy. 

‘These markings, they’re different. They mean something very special to you,” he remembered his night with Capable as they lay together looking up at the stars, their skin touching against each other and her cheek nestled against his chest. Her fingers were gentle and light as one by one she traced the tally marks. She noticed that all of his chest as well as his right arm were engraved by intricate designs of parts of machines, and yet his left arm remained engraved with the exception of the number ‘1’ in a circle and tally marks under in. 13 is what she counted and she wondered what exactly they were.

‘Are they…those you’ve killed?” She asked, almost a whisper, her eyes showing a regret that she mentioned it, not wanting to remind him of what Immortan Joe may have made him do. Nux shook his head, and watched the relief flow away from her. He held her closer to him as he pressed a kiss atop her fiery red hair and inhaled her scent. He never told anyone about the markings except Slit, and often times others made their assumptions. He trusted Capable enough to be open to her, to let her know more about him. 

“They are the years I’ve lived since I served Immortan Joe,” he said to her. “When I was chosen to serve him was weak and small and they didn’t expect me to live past the year,” he let out a bitter laugh. “I only proved them wrong, I grew strong… but now look at me, weak again and…” He shook his head and not wanted to think of the inevitable. “I hang on to this life and now I’m close to the end of it.”

He had known that he did not have much time left to live. The life he felt within slowly drained as his illness, a plague that seemed so common among the War Boys, had taken most of his health. No blood bag could salvage him any longer. It was a bitter reality he faced as he reveled in his closeness with the woman he so easily fell in love with.

She had pressed a kiss on his chin, as he drew her closer to his body and held her tight. “Nux, you  _ are _ strong,” she told him, “And whatever happens tomorrow, know that of all my life I’ve never felt the most alive until I have met you. To be with you and to feel this feeling in here,” she placed a hand above his heart, “it is what life is. And whatever happens, wherever this life takes us or where our afterlife brings us, know that what we share last forever. I’m sure of it. That’s strength in itself…” 

Nux watched on his small frame took orders from the Mechanic War Boy, his face ashen and coughing at the exhaust and dust he neared as he fixed the gears, and prepared the Vehicles. Even in his youth, he was determined to survive, that he realized he always had in him. In the core of his following Immortan Joe—he realize that he was looking for survival, to be prove that he was worthy and that he was no weakling that was going to die. He learned how to adapt, and he realized that at 8 he had made the decision that he was no longer a child, and that he was already a man.

He thought back on his time with Capable and how she made him realize that he was more than a slave and follower of Immortan Joe. When he sacrificed his fading life to save Capable and the Wives, he let go of his past and the troubles of his past and accepted that for the first time he owed his life as his own, and he chose to do with it what he felt he needed to do, not because of Immortan Joe’s promise of Valhallah, but because of his own right.

Nux felt the scene of his youth fade into ash in front of him, until there he found himself yet again surrounded by white. 

“Hello!” He called out—but his words simply echoed in the distance. He felt a searing pain on his shoulder where the carvings of his 13 years under Immortan Joe’s enslavement glowed. He wasn’t sure if he had screamed from the jolting pain as he grasped the side of his arm. He found himself collapsing on the white ground and hissing in pain. He felt intense burning, as if flames emanated through each carving of the tallies and closed his eyes once again. As soon as the pain was there it dissipated, and once again he fell into the nothingness, and his mind grew blank.

~~~~

_ Utsaah and the Child _

The child studied the War Boy’s form closely, trying his best to catch any change. It was his turn after all to look over the body and he awakened from his many hours of sleep refreshed and with increased curiosity. The old Healer slept not far from them near the dying flames of the camp fire. The sun had already risen into a new day, and its rays came through the cave’s entrance.

“A new day, and still nothing!” The child thought to himself begrudgingly. 

When Utsaah said it’d take days, he hadn’t expect that it could also mean that there would be no changes to the War Boy for what felt like a full day. The child had expected to awaken and witness the War Boy’s body healed at least.

Defeated the child propped his arms on his crossed legs and propped his chin on the palm of his hands. He sighed and looked at the body once more and then after a few moments decided that he would spend his time looking through his journal and reviewing his notes. 

He got up and went to his bag and took out a small leather bound journal, worn and torn from the elements and travel. It was given to him by Utsaah as a way to write about his teachings and experiences. 

“A good Healer take notes of his success and failures, and his adventures,” Utsaah had told him, “That allows one to look back and make the adjustments, or over time stand witness to the patterns of life.”

Opening his journal, he sifted through the pages. Most of the pages consisted of images and drawings of certain potions and brews, as well as maps of certain underground locations that they could safely settle in. The child had a few notes he had scribbled, but they were few and scattered. 

To Utsaah’s distain, the child did not enjoy writing his findings as much as he preferred to draw them. The child always thought that he captured things better in drawings and sketches than in writing. His drawings had been so intricate and realistic that soon Utsaah simply allowed the child to continue on, paying no mind to the lack of detailed notes, but instead just pleased that the child seemed to be taking in and understanding his teachings better than he had expected him to. The child did after all had a great knack for remembering—similar to a photographic memory—and held onto details in his mind, and could easily recall them when needed.  That in itself was enough reason for Utsaah to let the child be.

The child turned to an empty page in his journal and took out his drawing clay. It was hardened red clay in a form of a small thin stick that he could easily hold and would write onto the pages. The pages itself were not smooth—they had been books of the old days that were unreadable and its words were washed and cleared away to yield empty pages for use. 

To the child, he was just happy to be one of the few to be lucky enough to have such luxury. Utsaah told him that not many people in their world had the luxury of having a bound book or journal to keep their writings, or even special-made clay to write with. To most it was something that was not an important part of their living. To Utsaah and the child, it was their way to past on their knowledge to their successor.

The child peered up at the War Boy and down at his empty page. He began to sketch the engravings on the War Boy’s chest, amazed at how intricate it was and how some of the long scars seemed to have been done in one line, as it was all done in one sitting, with no pauses in between most of it. The child wondered how much the pain was and how the War Boy had tolerated it.

He drew the engine first, curious as to what such would symbolized. He heard War Boys considered their bodies as vessels for Immortan Joe; they were vehicles to serve him, and the engine was the core of that. They were the machines to carry out Immortan Joe’s bidding.

The child sat quietly as one by one he drew the carvings on the War Boy’s body. He drew his face and the skull carvings upon it, and then his right arm and the very light carvings there of gears. The child stood and moved to settle on the left side of the War Boy. He peered close to draw the marking of ‘1’ and several tallies near it. It was odd because of all other parts of the War Boy’s body; this area remained the cleanness. It was a canvas devoted to the tally marks, it seemed, for it did not have any other engravings around it like its counterpart. 

The child counted each tally under the ‘1’ and couldn’t 13, some varying in their thickness. He wondered what they meant. As he drew on he looked up and down from his journal. He was now drawing the tallies that were the thickest. He wondered what each one meant and wished he knew what their significance were. 

He darkened the thick tallies that he drew on the page and glanced back up to observe them again. When he looked up, he gasped in surprised, the pencil in his hands falling. He rubbed his eyes and scurried closer to the War Boy’s arm. 

“It can’t be!” He heard himself say in surprise as one by one each tally began to disappear.

The child rubbed his eyes again and blinked a few more times. The scars glowed a fiery red/orange, as if they were traced by flames and then disappeared into nothingness. The flesh where they were was then then left unmarred and smooth. The child dropped his journal to his side and rushed over to the Healer.

“Utsaah! It’s began!” The child said as he shook the Healer awake. “He’s healing!”

 

TBC


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Nux meets the goddess Miras and views a future that could be.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Author's Note: In my story, the Citadel consist of 3 mesas, which is actually shown in a lot of photos of the movie. I'm not an expert on rock formations, so excuse any scientifically incorrect things related to the mesas in this fic. I take full responsibility for all of it! This chapter will be followed by flashbacks as Nux begins his journey to Capable.

_Utsaah and the Child_

Utsaah watched as the child studied the War Boy intently, his eyes wide with wonder and curiosity. It dawned on him that this was to be the first Chosen his apprentice saw during his transformation and reawakening. He watched as the child wrote and drew fervently in his notebook, paused to peer closer to the War Boy's now unmarked arm, and then turned his gaze towards him. Utsaah knew the questions would soon come, and sure enough they did. And with a smile Utsaah answered them all, and continued to train his apprentice.

.

.

_Nux_

Nux could not remember when he started his long climb upwards one of the three mesas of the Citadel. His feet carried him while he was in a trance, until he reached the top and walked along the pasturelands on top of the mesa. When the realization of where he stood hit him, he could not help but take in the wonderful sight before him. Bright shades of green surrounded him and enveloped his gaze as he looked around him. For many years he heard of the vegetation above the mesas of the Citadel, and he even saw them from afar when he'd view the Citadel from a distance in his War Boy's vehicle, or looked up above when he found himself around The Wretched.

He paused for a moment and took in his surroundings, and found himself staring at the multiple small trees scattered about with green branches and silvery bark. He refrained from going to one to examine them, and continued onward towards the edge of the mesa, as if an invisible string was pulling him to do so.

Nux stood on the edge of the mesa, and looked outward to the view before him. Across from him were the other mesas, all topped with greenery, trees and various vegetation that looked very close to the descriptions provided to him by the Vuvalini. He watched in amazement as he witnessed several people walking about the mesas gathering and picking from the branches of the trees and the plants below what looked to be fruits and vegetables—the 'plant food' and nourishment that the Vuvalini had described came from the very seeds that were given to Dag.

Silently he observed the people tending to the vegetation, surprised that none of them seemed to look towards him or notice his gaze from afar. Nux wondered if he called out to them if they would hear him. Then he reminded himself that perhaps this—what he was seeing—was yet again another dream, or another vision provided to him in his spirit or limbo state.

He brushed this thought aside as he averted his gaze to look down below the mesa, and expected to see the heard of people begging, hungry, and hopeless—The Wretched—but was surprised at what he found. Below him there was no longer the sight of The Wretched, but instead more greenery, new structures, and people working on the land. People farmed in designated patches of vegetation, and all throughout the land below the mesas where a heard of people once stood and gazed up upon Immortan Joe and his waterfall, was instead various encampments and small homes built. Among the homes were people roaming about talking and trading with each other. He saw no hopelessness and despair, but instead a town filled with hope, of purpose, and community. 'This can't be the Citadel,' he told himself. Nux surmised that what he saw was a dream, and that unlike his various visions that he encountered and relived in his afterlife, this one was not one he had seen or viewed before.

He found himself wondering if what he saw was the Citadel of the past, before the world fell into its darkness and men like Immortan Joe took power and drained the land of its greenery, and instilled in everyone despair.

"Was this what it used to be?" He asked aloud as he looked on.

"This is the future of the Citadel," said a female voice next to him. Nux turned to his left startled by the sound and rendered speechless. The voice came from a hooded figure who had appeared beside him. She was a tall woman covered fully in a cloak the deepest shade of blue he ever saw. The cloak covered her from head to toe, with its hood pushed down past her eyes, and casting a shadow upon her face.

He stared at her, waiting for her to turn to look at him, but she did not make a move to do so. The woman simply looked forward, only her profile shown to him. She was still for a moment, until suddenly she raised both of her hands and slowly gestured to the world beneath them in a swooping motion. She spoke again without turning to him.

"This is the Citadel you will help build."

Nux looked back at the scene before him, astonished at how real it all felt. He was seeing the future, of what could be, and yet he had so many questions as to how he could help build it. Was this woman standing next to him another vision that would dissipate, or could this woman provide him answers to what he was encountering. Was she to help him to Valhalla? Was she a Goddess he remembered the Vuvalinni had mentioned praising?

He turned to her slowly, happy that her presence did not disappear and that it had not been a hallucination at all. He studied the tall figure of the woman, whose skin where a dark chocolate brown, and lips turned slightly upright in a knowing smile. He still could not see her face, hooded by her cloak, and he decided not to try to see it, as it was clear she would not turn to face him.

"How is it that you see me?" He asked, although deep down he wondered if he already knew the answer, as the figure made no move to turn to face him. He watched as she folded her hands in front of her.

"It is I who have chosen you to fulfill your destiny not yet realized," she said matter of fact. "It is I who will guide you home, and will give to you the power to finish a path long began by many others before you."

"I died," he said, "I am dead, and yet here I am. You..." He was unsure of what to say, yet something in him accepted what was going on. Something in him was saying that whoever this strange being was, that they would help him.

Something about the woman's presence told him that she was of another world, a strength within her that he clearly thought was absolutely lacking in Immortan Joe and the praise he received. This cloaked woman, emanated an aura of power, of light, and Nux felt a surety that this was one of the Goddesses that he heard the Valvaluni speak of. This was the Goddess of the guide of the afterworld.

The figure finally turned to him, and his breathe caught in his throat as she lifted her face and he saw her eyes, completely black and devoid of the white. There were pools of stars within her eyes of a dark night sky, and yet he knew she saw him clearly.

"You will follow me, and in your memories I will heal you, and lead you back to her, and onto your destiny." She tells him, the smile on her lips widened, as she raised her hand towards him.

She then raised her hands above her and made a circling motion until a bright blue light came from her palms and then trailed towards Nux and surrounded him in a haze.

Nux did not move, as he found himself embracing the warmth of the blue light. He was unsure of what to come, and yet found in his heart that he trusted the outcome.

Her words echoed in his mind: _'In your memories I will heal you, and lead you back to her'._ He allowed himself to be transported back to his past, and this time he did not fear it. He embraced it.


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Nux relives his past, especially his time with his parents and when he received his scars on his chest.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Author’s note: Nux faces some of his memories, especially those leading up to his scar on his chest . Scenes are separated by ‘//FLASH//’. Italics are the scenes Nux is reliving. Non-italics are his thoughts as he is in the ether.

Title: His Return

Author: G.G. Halcyon

Fandom: Mad Max: Fury Road

Pairing: Nux/Capable

Rating: T

_Nux_

 

The strange figure he met disappeared from his view. He never saw her again, yet he still felt the energy of the blue light that she had encircled him in. The light’s energy provided warmth and assurance, and a semblance of peace, that made Nux accept his predicament, no matter how new and unsure his experiences were.

 

He gathered he was in a place in the afterlife, and that the strange figure was perhaps his guide or a Goddess who came to lead him. Her words to him echoed in his mind, as he reaffirmed that her words could well mean that he was to return to see Capable in spirit or not. And the way to do so was through experiencing his memories and his past. Or would he also experience the future as he was doing so right there at that moment still taking in the sight of the future thriving Citadel?

 

At this last thought, his surroundings faded once more as his body and spirit transported to begin his journey once more through his afterlife. The memories and visions occurred like flashes of scenes from his life, and unlike before, Nux prepared himself for what was to come… and he was no longer afraid.

 

 

//FLASH//

The memories of an older man with his child came to his view. It was a memory that he had long forgotten that at first Nux wondered if it was a pigment of his imagination, or if the Goddess was showing him memories of another man’s life. This thought dissipated immediately when suddenly he found himself in the body of his three-year-old self, looking up at the visage of the man who is realized was his father.

 

His father was a tall and lanky man, with the piercing blue eyes, a strong nose, long dusty brown hair and a full beard that covered his face. A young Nux only four years old watched as his father drew on the sand below them with his fingers. A few sweeping motions and there it was—an image of a city of tall buildings and round shaped encampments was completed.

~

_Nux studied his father’s drawing, the structures so foreign and new. He never saw such tall structures or mountains in his life, but heard of them only through stories. Nux was always told that the desert was not their home, that they were part of a group of people whose camp dispersed in search of a place of water that were promised to them by their Elders.  He looked up at his father with the same piercing blue eyes, and dusty brown hair._

_“Is this where we came from?” He asked his father_

_“This is where we’ll find our new home,” Nux’s father said to him._

_He stared at the tall structure his father drew and was pointing at. It was a drawing of three tall straight mountains with a cascading wave falling from its center structure. A ‘water fall’ is what his father called it, where water abound for all._

_“Why this place?” Nux asked his father, as he stared at the picture, wondering if there were others like this place his father was speaking of. “Aren’t there other places like it? There must be!”_

_“This is the closest to us that we know of.” His father said, “We know of others like us who trekked there.”_

_“We can walk to the other places too, there must be more here in this place.” The little Nux looked around, capped his hands and pretended they were binoculars. He peered through them and looked around their surroundings._

_With a sigh, Nux put down his imaginary binoculars. “There’s nothing.”_

_His father chuckled. “They are all too far, and that’s why we need a cruiser.”_

_Nux turned to him questioningly. “A ‘cruiser’?”_

_It was a word he never heard of. His father took hold of the stick once more and drew what appeared to be a box, with four road circles._

_Nux pointed at the circles below the box._

_“Tires,” his father said. “You ride in these and they travel across the sands and take you to places you’ve never seen.”_

_“Inside it? How do you know where it will go?”_

_“You steer it, lead it the way you want it to go and it carries you.”_

_His father drew within the box another circle, and a stick-figure holding onto it sitting inside the box, facing forward._

_“I can do that?” The child Nux asked, watching as his finished drawing the person in the box._

_“Yes, you’d be a driver.”_

_“Driver,” he whispered, already his eyes memorizing the picture and his father already knew that later his son would play and imagine it._

_“Have you seen one? Can I find one?”_

_His father shook his head, “I have never set eyes on one, but I have heard of them and have only seen these images.”_

_“Will this place have it?” Nux pointed at the tower his father had drawn, he took a stick and starting drawing his mother, father and himself near the structure with a stick. He wished greatly that they had this ‘cruiser’ his father spoke of._

_His father nodded his head, and Nux smiled widely._

_~_

Nux had forgotten the long venture he, his mother, and himself made across the desert. The arduous journey across the desert in hopes of a better life in the rumored sanctuary known as the Citadel was one that his parents made sure he made. Little did they know that the Citadel was no sanctuary at all.

 

Upon their arrival there were people of The Wretched that took it upon themselves to steal what little his family had upon their arrival, and took the life of his father as he had struggled to keep what little they had in their name from being taken. Not only a few days’ time upon their arrival at the Citadel, that Nux found himself fatherless, and his mother a broken woman. The hope that the Citadel was to have given them was a mere faded dream that had turned into a nightmare. In time his mother had withered away into a sickly woman who cared for her only son the best she could until her very last breath. And in time, when Nux was embraced and taken under the wings of the War Boys of Immortan Joe, the memories of his mother and father had dissipated into the recesses of his mind until he had forgotten about them until now.

 

 

//FLASH//

_The Organic Mechanic shook his head in confusion. Here he was wondering why the War Boy was smiling widely. Had he given him to much medication, or drinks? Had he lost his mind through the pain of it all? The Organic Mechanic flicked a finger on Nux’s forehead a few times until the War Boy slowly opened his eyes. His pupils were dilated. Nux was high off of the ‘medicine’ he received._

_“Well…” The Organic Mechanic looked down at Nux, a smug smile on his face as he rubbed his bloodied hands on his apron and shirt. “look at you.” He held a carving knife that he wiped and placed in the pockets of his apron, as reveled in his handy work._

_Nux’s eyes were heavy, and he tried to keep them open wide, only to find them half lidden. He was tired, and he felt numb to the point that he wondered if his body still existed. He also wondered why he could not move his body, and why the Organic Mechanic stood over him in his bloodied state._

_The Organic Mechanic laughed and shook his head in disbelief as Nux simply stared on in silence, trying to keep his consciousness. ‘He is a stubborn one,” the OM thought, and took a hand mirror and showed it to Nux, so that it was tilted downward and he had a view of his chest and the completed masterpiece of the Mechanic._

_“You’re Shiny now, new driver.” The Organic Mechanic said, as he watched Nux review his work on him. The scars on his chest were fresh, bloodied still, although it seemed they had been cleaned most recently. They were bloodied, yet he saw the shape. It was exactly what he dreamed. The engine right before his chest. As intricate as he had dreamt it to be._

_Nux tried to turn slightly to see the extend of the scars, but to no avail as the massive pain erupted through the delirium of the drug he was in and he found himself clenching his teeth and squeezing his eyes shut. Hot tears started to well from his eyes._

_“Hurts, don’t it?” The OM said, laughing at Nux, “I was starting to worry there for a moment when you didn’t wake up screaming. I thought I must have not cut deep enough.”_

_Nux grunted in pain, forced himself not to scream, as he felt blinding pain course through him in between the pools of delirium. He could hear the OM walk around him, hear him place the mirror on a nearby table with a loud clunk. He heard more movement and then felt a sharp pain as he felt the OM raise his arm and inject something into him._

_“Wha—“  Nux tried to ask, but delirium filled him again and his head started to feel light and his body numb once more._

_“Hope that wasn’t too much,” The OM said to himself, as he watched Nux relax again, and start to drift asleep._

_Before darkness claimed him, Nux heard the soft and caring voice of a woman._

_“Oh, my child you’ll be all right.” The woman’s voice told him, as he felt soft hands against his forehead, wiping the sweat from his brow. “When was this woman here?”, he asked as he opened his eyes slightly, fluttering and eyelids still heavy and his vision still blurry. He tried to blink his eyes and when he did he made out the familiar face his mother, a bright spirit standing before him._

_“It’ll be okay,” she told him, “You’ll come through this.”_

_“Thank you,” Nux said to her as he accepted fatigue and exhaustion and fell asleep._

_The Organic Mechanic had heard mumbles from Nux and watched as the War Boy became still, then relaxed and then once again a smile showing on his face, as he passed out. For a moment he wondered what the War Boy was trying to say, or what vision he may have been speaking to in his delirium. He shrugged the questions aside as he left the sleeping Nux and made way to the other new War Boy drivers that also needed to be scarred._

_//FLASH//_

_The 3-year-old Nux coughed loudly and shivered beneath the warm blankets that enveloped him. He had been sick for a few days, both his parents worried as his illness seemed to worsen. Their only child had grown weak from fever to stand or move, and they kept him in their makeshift bed, tucked beneath blankets inside their tent._

_They looked down at their child, quiet at first as they huddled within their tent, as the nightfall came about and the noise of the wind and sand against their home in waves._

_“My baby, it’ll be all right,” his mother said, as she fixed the blankets around her son so that he was tucked in. She brushed a hand on his forehead and cheek to feel his temperature, which still felt quite high._

_His father, who kneeled next to his wife, gazed at his child with a look of concern. “How is he doing? Has the fever broke?”_

_The mother shook her head, “It has not, but I’m certain it will soon.” She wiped again at Nux’s forehead, and turned to her husband, meeting his blue gaze._

_“Our son is a fighter,” she said smiling softly, and then turned her attention back to Nux._

_“You are a strong one like your father,” she said to her son. “You’ll come through this.”_

_TBC._


	7. Chapter 7

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Capable takes a potion from the Alchemist.

**Utsaah and the Child:**

“You must sleep now, and prepare for tomorrow.”

The child sighed as he took the bowl and began to eat, though he made no movement away from his position near the War Boy. Utsaah knew his apprentice’s curiosity and eagerness often led to his stubbornness, but decided that unlike the previous days, he would not nag the child to go to bed and stay away from his post. Utsaah felt that the War Boy was close to his awakening, he saw it in his visions from the Goddess Miras during his morning meditation and prayer. It would be close soon, he knew.

Utsaah sat next to the boy and ate his meal, looking down at the notebook near the child. He ushered for the child to past it to him. “Let me see your notes, child.”

The boy passed him his book and Utsaah opened the pages of his drawings and notes, midway his eating. His apprentice was learning quite quickly and wrote and drew detailed pictures and descriptions of the processes of their healing a Chosen. He also saw pictures of the scars which the War Boy had on him.

Utsaah was deep in thought when he saw a bright red light emit before them. He placed the book and his finished bowl of food down and looked up. The boy already noticed the change in the War Boy at once, as he placed down his food – completely forgotten—and peared down at the War Boy.

The War Boy’s scars on his chest gleamed a bright red, pulsing, and emanated a light from within.  
“It has happened again! He is healing, Utsaah! I knew it! I knew it!” The boy was excited at the sight and grabbed his notebook and clay pen and began to write his descriptions.

They watched was the scars glow and slowly, one by one the scars upon his chest began to fade, as if the V8 image was being erased one segment by another.

Utsaah was certain that it would be soon until the Chosen would awaken and their job would be done.

\---

 

**Capable**

It was a nagging feeling in her gut, the constant reminders that seem to continue on wherever she was and whatever she did. Nux filled her mind more so than before, and the thought of him made her heart ache. She no longer wanted to maintain the hope and belief that he lived. She wished that she was not cursed with her ‘gift’ to know when those she loved died, and prayed that it was indeed just a pigment of her imagination, and that she had no power at all. Yes, that was it. All of those incidences of her sensing other’s deaths were all coincidences, and were not tied to her ‘gift’ at all.

“You are in your thoughts again,” Toast said to her from across their seating area. They stood above the citadel balcony, where in the past Immortan Joe would stand. It provided the best view of the Citadel—the three large mountains that made it, as well as the hords of people, the Wretched, who lived below.

Capable turned to Toast and gave her a smile, and returned her gaze back down at the Wretched. She noted that the people have created more establishments below with the aid of Furiosa and the War Boys she led. With their aid, they were provided materials, to fashion themselves miature homes below the Citadel and below was an ever growing small city on its own that sprouted up once Furiosa took rule, and the water was provided in a more timely and schedule manner.

It was also in those encampments and cities that the Alchemists were said to be. Capable had overheard from Lawl, Giddy’s successor, that the Alchemists were those with whom the Wretched went to when they suffered, or when they needed help in the spiritual realm and were said to know of ways to heal the heart. Capable wondered if it wouldn’t hurt to reach out to the Alchemists and if they would help her in ways that she could not help herself. Somehow the thought of finding closure through whatever they would provide, was appealing to Capable for it would finally mean that she could move on with her life.

“The Wretched goes to the Alchemist to say their last goodbyes to those who died in the spirit realm,” Lawl said, as she pointed at the tattoed word ‘alchemist’ on her right forearm. The word was small and would be easily missed in the multiple tattoes of words that she had on them. Capable wondered when she had it tattoed on her skin, and what stories it involved. Before Lawl could continue on to share a story, it was already time for their meal and Capable was taken by Toast and the others to eat and talk.

“Do you remember the Alchemists?” Capable asked Toast, wondering if she would remember the conversation or perhaps share information from Lawl she didn’t have the chance to hear. “Lawl said they are down there below.”

Toast turned her gaze back at the Wretched and followed Capable outreached hands, which pointed below them. “I hear they have been here since the beginning. They were the first Wretched, survived for centuries and know the secret of these lands. That they choose to live there below.”

“Do you think it’s true what Lawl said?” Cheedo asked peered down at the Wretched, Dag next to her as the others turned her and gave her their attention. “The Alchemist are the Organic Mechanics of the Wretched in a way, as Lawl said…”

“Except not bloodied with knives and dealing with the mind,” Dag continued on, her gaze falling on Capable quietly. Capable met her gaze, knowing full well what she thought. Capable let out a sigh as she turned from the balcony and began to walk towards their exit, and Toast and Cheedo followed suit. Dag remained in her place for a moment and then turned to follow behind them. Dag then walked swiftly under she was beside Capable, following suit as they exited their rooms.

As Cheedo and Toast left to visit another part of the Citadel and aid in Furiosa in their assigned roles, Dag walked with Capable and then stopped her in their track with a gentle hand on her arm.

Capable turned around and met her intense gaze.

“Capable,” Dag said to her, a slight smile on her lips and look of what seemed to be concern in her eyes, “They’re healers,” she finished, referring to the Alchemists. “I can help take you to them.”

Capable was shock, unsure how to answer Dag, and yet she did her best. Dag came forward and placed her in a warm hug, and Capable hugged back realizing it had been so long since she experienced something like this with her Sisters.

“I just want you to be better,” she whispered to her.

Capable pulled away from the hug. She knew Dag had concern in her heart. Capable nodded her head. She knew that perhaps the Alchemist was her last chance. Perhaps they would be able to assist her in her visions.

\--

It was an easier task than they had thought it to be, to venture below to the Wretched. Somehow Dag knew of a different path to go down below, as if clearly she had done so for many a times. She always was one of peculiarity and wonders with so much knowledge she held. Capable didn’t bother to question Dag as they made their way down the narrowed paths, and passed the Healer and Milking Rooms, and ventured into the corridors of the Farmers, who consisted of the Wretched that were chosen to aid with the land above the three mountainous structures that created the Citadel.

Both of them remained unnoticed in the disqguise that Dag created for them. Their ragged clothes—a few Dag somehow had in her person—another side she had done this before and more often that it seemed—made them unnoticeable. Capable covered her bright red hair and hit it under a tight dark turban, and a shawl around her face. She followed Dag through the various corridors and through the various parts of the Citadel until they came about a small pully upon which graval and rocks were being hauled up, manned by what looked to be a War Boy in charge and several War pups.

Capable’s heart was caught in her throat as they were immediately seen by the War Boy. She pulled on Dag’s hands to pull her back, and to turn and run, but Dag only stopped her, grabbed her hands and urged her to follow. Capable watched in amazement as a wide smile formed on Dag’s lips as they went towards the War Boy with a smile.

“Rove,” she greets him, a tinge of familiarity in the way Dag said the War Boy’s name. The War Boy stood tall and looked at her, his lips curving into a smile. “I came for a favor, that I’m happy to return.”

Capable watched as Dag let go of her hand and went closer to the War Boy. With long hands she raises them to touch his shoulder, and trace his scars there. It was a knowing touch, and the War Boy’s green eyes softened. Capable wondered if there was more to them that she did not know, and yet was certain that it’d be explained to her in the future my Dag.

She hears them exchange words, but thought it more respectful to abide them their privacy. She turned her back to them as they continued to speak, soft words, and pleasantries of familiarities. She turned around when she thought them finish and watched as Dag placed a light kiss on his lips, before he stepped aside and let them through.

“Come,” Dag said to Capable as she stepped onto the platform to the elevator, a platform still pilled with rock and gravel. Capable followed suit, and bit a quick thank you to the War Boy.

As they got into the platform, the War Boy handed them a large tarp of sort.

“Hide yourself,” he tells them. “It’s better to be unseen. I’ll look for your return.”

With that, Capable and Dag kneeled down onto the platform and covered themselves. Within a few moments they then felt the platform move down with the countings of the War Pups as the War Boy ‘Rove’ commanded them to begin their motion.

As they decended, Capable looked up at Dag, who stared back at her with a smile. She already knew the questions inside the redhead’s thoughts. “I’ve known him for very long,” she says, and nothing more. With that they waited in silence as the platform continued it’s decent, and they prepared themselves for their venture throughout the Wretched.

\--

The Alchemist were not as difficult to find as Capable expected. The path through the Wretched was one that did not yield any attention, as they blended in quite easily with their disquise, and among them was the hustle and bustle of the makeshift town that formed. The many people yielded a great cover, as they ventured not too far from the platform, and found a makeshift group of large tents. Capable wondered how often Dag came there, for she found the location quite quickly.

Dag took hold of Capable’s hands as they entered the large tent, and were greeted by one elderly woman, similar to Giddy, but with a patch covering her blind eye. The woman looked very ragged, her skin pale, and her hair white as the clouds. Her eye was a dark black that peered into her and viewed them understandingly.

“I felt you would come,” she said, she had a very heavy accent in her voice. “You have brought her here, my child, and it is for that she should thank you.” She was speaking to Dag now who nodded her head.

“Dag?”Capable turned to her sister in question, as the Alchemist reached out her hand for Capable to accept. Dag nodded her head and Capable grabbed the woman’s hands and sat in front of her, as Dag sat on the corner of the tent away from them and looked on.

“You came here to find the answer, and to speak one last time to your lover that you dream of.” The Alchemist said. How much has Dag shared with this Alchemist about her? Capable was about to respond, but the Alchemist quiets her with a raised hand, and a nod. “I know, child, and I will help you. I have prepared what it is you must take to speak with him, and to find the answer you seek.”

The Alchemist then stood and moved to her wares on the corner of the tent. They heard and saw multiple bottles filled with various colors of liquid, and packets of dried herbs that they’ve never seen before, and yet were reminiscent of the herbs that Vulvalini had used to heal them. Capable wondered where these ingredients were found, for she had never seen such plethora of dried leaves and flowers and greenery aside from those from the seeds that Dag had returned and had planted above the Citadels. Could Dag’s War Boy dabbled in smuggling Citadel plants to the Alchemist of the Wretched aside from providing secret passages to and from the Wretched to the Citadel? Capable wouldn’t be surprise, yet a part of her gathered that the source of the herbs were most likely elsewhere.

The Alchemist slowly filled a bowl with various herbs and liquids, spoke in a different tongue that she spoke in, a language unknown to both Dag and Capable. Capable looked at Dag, who simply nodded her head to console her to tell her in her own way that it was all right.

As the elderly woman’s chant continued on, Capable felt a shiver course through her, as if the very words affected her and awakened something she could not explain. She shook her head and steadied herself. It could simply be a feeling of anxiety that caused her to shiver. For all she knew, the Alchemist’s potions would not truly aid her, and it was all just a futile and final attempt that Capable felt she needed to try before completely letting herself let go of her beloved.

For what felt like many moments, they were in silence and watched the Alchemist prepare a potion, until she provided a small vile from the herbs and leaves and liquids she had combined and cooked under a fir and grounded. The tiny vile was the size of her palm, the liquid a dark shade of brown, that almost looked as black as the tar the War Boys used to paint their faces.

The Alchemist took Capable’s hands and placed them in her palm. The Alchemist closed Capable’s hands around the vile, and kept her hands over the younger woman’s.

“What do I do--?” Capable asked peering down at their entwined hands, and feeling the warm vile in her palm.

“When you return to your bed, before you sleep, drink this and slumber.”

Capable nodded and prepared to let go of her hands, but the Alchemist kept her hands in hers as she continue to speak. “Your slumber will be deep

“What should I pay you?” She asked, and the Alchemist laughs.

“That is no greater payment than for what you will give to us all in your future.”

“Dag?”

Dag smiled and began to get us, “Thank you, for your help.”

The Alchemist smiled, “It is always a pleasure to be of help to the beautiful ones of the Citadel.”.

\---


	8. Chapter 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi everyone! Long time no see! I know it's been a while, and I appreciate all of your patience with this fic. I'm going ahead and posting all of the remaining chapters, so that the story is completed. I've had the chapters done, but was holding on to them until I get them edited. Instead of delaying any further, I decided to go ahead and post all of them without completing the edits. So, please pardon any grammar or spelling issues. I'll edit this story at some point when I get the chance. I just didn't want keep you all hanging and thinking this story was abandoned. So without further ado, here's Chapter 8, 9, 10, and 11 (all posted). Please read and review. Your reviews are like tokens that keeps feeding my muse! Thanks!

**CHAPTER 8**

.

.

.

**CAPABLE**

The trek back to the Citadel was surprisingly an easy one. Dag managed to return them with what appeared to be no suspicion. Once they arrived at the great hall near their quarters, Dag hugged Capable and bid her farewell. Her eyes back to their hazy and dreamlike way as she sauntered down the hallway and disappeared down a corridor and from Capable's sight.

Capable turned around to walk towards her room, the small bag of herbs and tincture held tightly in her hands. She was not sure of what to expect, but she was determined that she would try anything in order to make sense of what it was she felt, and to find a way to find clarity and peace in her connection with Nux.

Walking briskly and lost in thought, she did not have the chance to notice Furiosa walking up the hallway and towards her. Furiosa called her name, as she neared her, stopping at the entrance to her room. Capable was taken aback for a moment, surprised at first, and then soon feigning an innocent smile, doing her best to appear as if there was nothing at all out of the ordinary. Furiosa's inquisitive and serious gaze proved only to Capable that she knew quite well what she was up to.

"You went to see the Alchemist, didn't you?" Furiosa knew the answer. It showed in her furrowed brow and the tone of frustration and disappointment in her voice.

Capable said nothing as she brought her hands behind her, still holding the satchel, and ensuring it was out of Furiosa's gaze. She tried to hurry past Furiosa and into her room, but Furiosa blocked her way.

Capable said nothing, finding it unnecessary to respond. She knew Furiosa knew quite well where she had gone. She most likely saw the satchel, and may have already found other ways to gather the information from the other War Boys who worked closely with her. It wouldn't surprise her, if unbeknown to Dag and herself, Furiosa had them followed throughout their excursion.

Furiosa ran a hand through her short hair and took a deep breath. Her look softened as she spoke.

"Capable, I'm worried about you," she said, "I hope you know that. And I want to make sense of what's going on, but you need to let me in. You need let me help you. I know how it feels to lose someone; death… it scars us and I…"

Furiosa continued on, but Capable decided not to listen any longer as the woman in front of her explained how Nux was truly gone, and how what she felt could not truly be. It was the same thing that Capable had heard spoken to her. Furiosa was speaking to her as if she was crazed, her tone of voice slow and steady, as if at any moment Capable would snap or break. Capable hated this and was tired of all of it. She cut off Furiosa, doing her best to hide her hurt, anger and frustration. Furiosa didn't understand, and it was clear she didn't try to.

"Do you think I'm crazy too?" Capable glared at Furiosa, her voice raised, "Do you think I care anymore as to whether or not the Citadel and you think I've lost my mind, and that what I feel isn't true? I know my Sisters have said things behind my back, and I won't be surprise if you think the same as they do. So, what is the point of me not acting the role?"

"I didn't say or even think that at all." Furiosa lied, and Capable could tell.

"Don't try to be nice," she stood in front of Furiosa, trying her best not to look intimidated. Furiosa stood two heads taller than her petite frame, and made it a point not to let the red-head through. Not yet, anyway. The older woman stood her ground and looked Capable over. Furiosa's steely eyes fell onto the bag where the serum from the Old Witchers were. The serums were most likely placebo cures created from pressed snake oil and some kind of sweetener like cactus nectar. It wouldn't do a thing.

"I know you're smart, Capable, and that you sure as hell know what those old hags gave you in that bag."

"It's none of your business."

"Maybe it is, because last time I checked I saved your life more than once and I'd hate to see it to waste. Don't you think that's a fair concern?"

Capable took another step towards the door, trying to push Furiosa aside, but Furiosa continued to block her way and stop her with a hand on her shoulder. "No, I'm not letting you run away that easy."

"What is it that you want?"

Furiosa gave Capable's shoulder a firm squeeze, which caused her to look up at her.

"Listen to me, I know what you're doing, and it isn't good for you," she says to her, her voice stern. "You need to move on, you need to live on."

Capable shrugged out of Furiosa's grip. "Like you? I should ignore what I feel inside here, in my gut, about the people I love. No, I'm not like you, I am different. I feel connections to those I love, and I don't expect for you to understand."

"Why are you so hell bent that Nux is alive? Why not Splendid too? You surely saw both of them die before your eyes. You remember that?"

Furiosa crossed her arms and hissed at her.

"I don't expect for you to understand, just like the others."

"Please tell me, help me understand then." It was almost like a plea, and the sketch of worry on Furiosa's face was something Capable hadn't seen in so long. She knew that in her own way this was Furiosa's way of telling her that she was worried about her and that she cared.

Capable stepped back from the door and leaved against the wall, the satchel of the serums still in her hand. She might as well try to explain, although she doubted she'd understand.

"With Splendid, I felt the moment she died."

"She died when she fell out of the rig, and got ran over."

"No, that's not when she died. They found her, she survived that. They killed hours after."

"How would you know this?"

"I feel it, and sometimes I get glimpses, like flashes that are like dreams but in a very brief second."

Furiosa came close to her and stood next to her against the wall. "I don't understand, how?"

"It just happens sometimes, usually with people I've grown close to. I know she died in the hands of the doctor, and her child… it died too."

"No..."

"Furiosa, I don't expect for you to understand, but I've always been like this all my life….and, with Nux, I know, I know in my heart he's still alive out there."

"Capable, if what you say is true, what makes you think that serum you have is going to help you?"

"It's not why I have it. I know what it is that they gave me, and I know it won't bring me close to him or to his spirit… but I know it'll help me forget."

"So you know what it is in that serum, you know it'll drug you."

"I know it'll take away this sadness, and I know that it'll make me stop questioning the sanity of my visions or if I'm totally losing my mind and that I never had the ability to know their death."

"Capable…"

"So please, Furiosa, just let me through and let me deal with this my way."

"What if I help you?"

"What do you mean?"

"What if I help you find Nux, find his body at least? If he's still be alive then his body should not be in the wreckage, and if he's not, at least we can offer him a proper burial for his sacrifice."

Capable stared at her in shock, unsure how to react. "Can I come with you?"

"I can't let you venture out again and put your life at risk. We don't know how the other nearby tribes will be."

"Furiosa, I know how it is out there in the barren lands. I know what to expect."

"No. I almost lost you, and I won't do it again." Furiosa gave Capable a stern look. "In two days time I will be heading out with a few War Boys and I'll have your answer and your peace soon after."

Capable placed a hand at her arm, looked deeply in her eyes. "Let me come with you, let me help find his body. And when we do, then I'll know I can rest. Then I'll find peace."

Furiosa saw the determination in the young woman's eyes, and knew that there was only one answer.

"All right." Furiosa said, as she placed a hand atop Capable's giving it a gentle squeeze before turning to leave.

Moments later Capable found herself alone in her room. Her Sisters were nowhere in sight and in the nearing evening, she found peace in the stillness and quiet around her. Next to her on her nightstand was the potion she had created from the satchel of herbs and tinctures the Alchemists gave her. It was in a small cup, warm and steaming.

While Capable knew that Furiosa would aid her in the coming days, she still found it in her heart to try the potion. The minty and floral smell of the warm potion filled her senses and surrounded her. It did not take long for Capable to grab the warm cup with both hands, and drink it. The warmth flowing down her throat, a bitter and sweet taste.

As she set the cup back down, she felt a warmth envelope her body as she lay, followed by a flash of coldness coursing through her veins, and her body slowly falling backwards into the softness of her bed. And before she could react any further, darkness enveloped her.

* * *

**To Be Continued...**


	9. Chapter 9

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> WARNING: This chapter is rated M for sexual content. To avoid this section, please read only the first part of this chapter which is under 'Nux'.
> 
> AUTHOR'S NOTES: This chapter bounces back and forth between Nux and Capable. I wanted to show how Nux and Capable finally connect with each other. It's still the spirit world in some way, since Nux is not fully yet healed. Let me know: What did you think? Was it a little confusing, or did it make sense? Happy to get your thoughts. Also, please remember my note int he prior chapter. Please excuse any grammar/spelling mistakes. Thanks!

**CHAPTER 9**

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.

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_NUX_

**He relived the moment he accepted that there half-lifes were walking skeletons, and he was skull face afterall….**

_"Now look at you! You got the signs of true half-life, don't you?" Slit gave a hearty laugh as he looked down at his fallen friend. "Those lumps you got ain't looking so good; and I figure it'll explain why you've been needing more bloodbags than usual."_

_"What? Those things? You've met my new friends." Nux smiled at him, noting the two lumps on left shoulder. He slowly pulls himself up and ushers himself back, until his back is against the wall. He felt a heavy weakness overcome him, he felt weary, his head spinning, and a feeling of nausea overcoming him. He closed his eyes and smiled through it, knowing full well that this was yet another confirmation of what he had already known for weeks._

_A sharp punch to the shoulder, brings him out of his reverie and he opens his eyes to see it was Slit who had done it. "Don't die yet, my friend. This isn't the place or the way you should if you want to live forever." Slit was crouching in front of him now, his eyes furrowed, searching and examining Nux's face._

_Nux rubbed his shoulder, the pain spreading. He laughed at Slit, as if he said the funniest of jokes. He shook his head as slit watched him silently. Nux continued to laugh at it all. He knew—almost felt it—that his life is ending soon. Whether it was weak or days, it was unsure. The fevers were more frequent, the coughing of blood too, the difficulty in breathing, the weakness. All of it was only signs that he was near his death, and soon he'd no longer have to add another tally on his arm. Soon, he would become a Pursuit War Boy, ready to die for Immortan Joe, to be witnessed and be in Valhalla._

_Moments passed until Nux realized that he had stopped laughing and was now silently staring off in the distance. Time seemed to have stopped, as he felt his head light. Slit only stared at him closely, almost baffled, concerned and disturbed by the almost hysterical laughter coming from his friend, which ended abruptly to his quiet, almost stoic stance. To Slit, he looked like a ghost with not much time left. He knew this, because he witnessed not too long ago the death of another friend._

_Slit came closer to Nux and with his strength pulled the War Boy up by the shoulders so he stood. Nux pressed himself against the wall, urged his legs to stay up, and was grateful for the support from Slit who kept his hands firmly pressing on his shoulders to keep him upright._

_Seeing Nux in this state was not uncommon, and he was certain that in the past Nux too had witness him in his weakness. He remembered clearly Nux supporting him, making sure he had enough bloodbags when needed to sustain himself before it was too late. And so, as much as he knew how clearly easy it would be for him to not care for Nux, he did so. In his core he could only do what he could for him as he knew his death was looming close._

_Nux's eyes are closed now, and Slit tested releasing his hold on him, only to watch him slowly drop, until he picked him up again._

_"Nux…" Slit said, "You're a fucking skull face." He shook his head. He didn't want to have to find another driver, after all he'd been his lancer for several weeks now, and cherished the unrivalled fortitude and insanity of Nux._

_Nux opened his eyes, a wide smile formed on Nux's face. "That's exactly it, isn't it?" Slit watched as he felt Nux pull himself together, and gather his strength. He wathched as Nux adjusted himself, and placed his hand in his pant pocket. He searched for a second until he took out a switchblade, its silver blade glinting before them._

_"What's that for?" Slit already knew, and wasn't surprised._

_"Too weak to do it myself, figured you'd got the steady hands," Nux said. "Make my face a skull, not worth hiding it."_

_Slit shook his head and took the knife. "What else, you want a fucking shinier engine too?"_

_He poked the knife at the V8 scar on his chest. Nux's eyes widen, remembering the V8 that had been scarred on his chest not too long ago by the Organic Mechanic upon his promotion to a driver from a lancer. The scars were not yet fully healed, as they were deep cuts. It wasn't a surprise that he was still in a recuperating state from it all. All drivers were given a chest scar of their vehicle's engine to represent their stage, and their closely to Immortan Joe. Drivers were those that were likely to die the soonest, as often they were the last to die with the most impact. 'Kamikazi-crashers' they called themselves, the last line of defense when the lancers failed, or get pushed off the vehicle. They were the leaders on the Fury road, it coursed through their blood, energized their already weakening body._

_Nux ignored Slit's comment about his fresh scar on his chest, ignored the droplet of blood that came from the prick of the knife, knowing full well that his lancer was still bitter by his not being promoted. Slit was not chosen yet, although he was close to the same situation as Nux. What he did fail to do was succeed in the races and obstacle courses that they made possible-drivers go through; he also lacked the black thumb that was needed. All the drivers had to be good drivers and be verse in mechanics of all types of vehicles—which Nux had many years of experience in._

_Slit took out his knife and began to sharpen Nux's knife. They glint in the gloom around them, making a noise too familiar to them both._

_"I'll make sure we make you shiny again, a shiny death skull."_

**He relives the day she made him feel alive…**

_Capable touched his lips and the ridges there. Her hands were soft and surprising caring, a touch he was so unfamiliar with. And for a moment he remembered somewhere in the recesses of his mind that his parents touched him in this kind way, caring for him—although the memory leaves him._

_Soon he remembers her kiss the side of his mouth, and then his lips as he laid still, almost shocked and surprise. Capable stopped and looked at him, realizing that she had made him uncomfortable._

_"I'm sorry," she says, but before she can finish the words, his callous hand reaches up and his thumb slowly and gently run over her full lower lip. He traces her lips reveling in their softness, unscarred by the ridges. And as he does this he meets her eyes and watch her worry disappear, and understanding shown there. She inches closer to him until his hands leaves her lips, and she's coming towards him again, or was it he towards her, and they kiss._

_For a few moments, their kiss is an awkward mess of lips and teeth clanking; Capable use to the brutal force of a kiss to the roughness of it, and Nux reveling in the idea of just feeling, and being close and sharing something he'd never experienced before. They stop when they run out of air, their breathing heavy, their faces flushed. Capable looks embarrassed, as Nux looks at her with a smile and ask._

_"Is this what lips touching is like?"_

_Capable turns her gaze away, embarrassed as she speaks to him in a hushed voice. "I only know how he has kissed me, and I don't think it's…right… I'm sorry I don't know."_

_Nux touches her face and turns her face towards him. "You are soft," he says as he caresses her face, and wipes the tears that are falling there. When did those fall? He hated seeing her embarrassed, and somehow the idea of Immortan Joe locking lips with this beautiful goddess in front of him sparked a determination in him. He did not want her to remember Immortan Joe's lips, but his. He wanted what he share with her to be different._

_Nux kisses Capable, and urges her to go slow. He feels her shoulders fall as she relaxes. He runs his hands on her shoulders as he kisses her gently, lightly, using all his might. He kisses her lips in gentle and slow successions, and then slowly kisses her neck, and then trail kisses downward towards the valley of her breast until he hears her gasp, and whisper his name. He looks up at her, her eyes are half lidded now._

_He is afraid maybe he hurt her, but her soft smile and gentle carress on his head, neck and back only encourages him. He wanted to kiss her until she forgot about Immortan Joe, he wanted to hear more of the noise she made, it was not of pain, but of a pleasure he had not heard before._

_"Nux," she said, as he kisses her neck once more, and then find her slowly opening her robe until her breast were in his view. Her nipples were perked and he wanted to kiss those too. And when he did, he felt her buddy buck close to him._

_"Are you okay?" He asked, and she nods her head, a heat in her eyes as he kisses one of the pert nipples again. He licks it and takes it fully in his lips and she moans loader this time. He understands now, what brings her pleasure and he loves her sound. He is about to kiss the other, when Capable ushers him up to face her again. This time she kisses him, still gentle, but now he feels her tongue in his mouth, touches and tasting and he follows suit. It is a quiet gentleness, and a mixture of their hands all over one another._

_How had they become naked? He and she does not remember, but through their kisses he felt her soft hands trace the markings on his face, his shoulders, and chest with a reverence and acceptance. He felt alive, he felt…human. Something that in his many years worshipping Immortan Joe, he had never felt._

_"Oh Nux," she said, as his hands caressed and gently touched parts of her, squeezing her thighs and venturing into the warmness between her thighs. He felt her slick, like the oil, and he raised his hands to his faste, notice her honey in his fingers, and then her eyes watching him intently. He taste her in his fingers, and she is magnificent, and wants more. As he wants to touch her more, he is stopped by her warm hands touching him in parts he had never been touched. Her soft hands grasping his manhood in her light hands, as he feels it perk up and tighten in her hold. He feels her touch the tip, and his slickness too, his 'oil' and with his eyes still on hers she raises her finger which touched his tip and licked it. She tasted him too._

_And they both wanted more…_

* * *

**CAPABLE**

Capable awakened with moan, noticed her hands between her thighs and one upon her breast. It felt so real to her, so vivid, the memories of what they've shared. She covered herself and turned until she was on her side. She was happy she had shared that night with Nux, grateful for the memories of him truly making her feel like a woman, making her forget the roughness of her experience with Immortan Joe.

She missed him deeply and wondered if he was close to her, how much she had wanted to share what they shared in those nights with him. To feel his touch, and to touch him. To revel in his warm, to hear his heartbeat against her ear and she fell asleep with her head on his chest. Or to caress his body, noting the scars and hearing the stories they represented.

 _"I'm here, Capable…"_  She felt a whisper in her ear, although unsure of whether it was still her dream. The potion she had taken may have still kept her in a dazed state… and yet she felt as if Nux had said it to her in real life.

His voice—she was certain it was his that she heard.

She closed her eyes tightly trying her best not to even think of him, or dream of him. It only caused heartache, and the reminder of what her sisters and Furiosa had shared with her.

Capable tried to clear her head as she heard his voice again, a whisper upon her ear once more. His voice clear. Was she still dreaming? Was this all the cause of the potion she consumed? Furiosa had warned her against taking the concoction, telling her it was lies that that nothing more would occur. And yet…

She felt his presence behind her as she lay, as if Nux enveloped her in his arms, a reminder of how they would sometime sleep. She remembered his words clearly about such a sleepy position, "I want to make you feel as safe as you make me," he had said to her during their second night together not so long ago, as they shifted and Capable pressed her back against his chest and he enveloped her with his pale arms. This was what she was feeling now.

Capable forced herself to open her eyes. Whatever dream it was, she was going to embrace it, if it meant remembering him again. She brushed away all of the words that she would hear from Furiosa and her Sisters and opened her eyes.

"Nux…" She whispered his name, her voice breaking as she held her tears. A tear drop falls from her eye, and she brushes it away.

"I'm here," she hears his whisper, as she feels his gentle hand brush against her barren shoulder and brush away her long red hair. She feels his touch against her, her body reaching out towards it. It all felt so real, and not a dream all to her… and yet she was still afraid to turn to look at him in the dream. She didn't know if she could contain her emotions, and her tears if she were to see him. She wasn't ready yet.

Capable felt a tingling sensation around her neck and body, as if hands caressed her, and in her half-awaken state she traces those through her body. Nux touched her, wondering if she felt him, touched her lips, her neck, her breast, her face. She feels as if someone is hugging her from behind, and she hears his breathing. She is back in a dream again, she thought to herself, unsure of where the sleep began and where the reality began.

"Please, Capable." Was all he said to her, a breath. It was a plead for her to turn to him, to see him and to see her eyes. He missed her so much. And she did, she finally turned to him, a smile on her face and tears in her closed eyes. He touches her cheeks and urges her to open her eyes as they envelope each other in one another's arms. He is cool against her heated skin.

Capable opens her eyes slowly, afraid the dream would end and that he would not be there. But he is. He is looking right at her, a smile on his face and his blue eyes as vibrant as ever. And without question she kisses him. She kisses him with all her might and touches him. And they kiss and touch with the same ferventness of their last night before his death. Capable didn't care if it was a dream, if it was the concoction she consumed giving her vivid dreams, she needed to be reminded of him, and of what they shared. She would accept her craziness, if it were to be.

* * *

**NUX**

"Nux," she says as she he kisses her fervently. Her gown open to expose her naked flesh, and he all of a sudden as naked as she above her. He is hovering over her, a smile on his face as he admires her and then shower kisses on her face, neck, and then take a pert nipple in his mouth to suckle as she breathes his name. He missed her warmth, her love, and wanted so badly for all of this to be not a dream or a vision the Goddess Miras tormented him. Whatever it was, he was grateful that it did not end just yet, and that he felt it too real.

Nux held her in his arms. He wanted to return to her, he wanted her to see him and to know he was still all right and that he remembers. Somehow, she could hear him, and yet somehow he felt as if she could feel him. And yet again he wondered if this was yet another memory that he needed to solve.

Nux kisses her neck and hugs her, and closes his eyes as they ride the wave of their love for one another and their wanting together to its climax. Her hands hugging him fiercely to her, and she to him, enveloped in all her warmth and love. He kisses her and she him, until satiated they laid in the bed, facing each other. The scene once again reminding them of their first night together in the truck not so long ago, her green eyes clashing against his bright blue, and her fingers tracing his lips, his check, his face.

She smiles at him, a smile different from before. This time an understanding and an acceptance. If this was a dream, then so be it. It was the cause of the herbs that the Witches provided her that caused this vision or her to spend her time with her love, then she excepts it too. To be able to have him in her arms, whether it be dream or not, was something she needed. She needed to be able to feel him once again, and to share with him her thoughts. For in their quiet moments in the night and in each other's arms, she shared with him her hearts ache, and how she felt in those times after his death, and how she understood his sacrificed, and mentioned that she had struggled in those days to continue on without him, an emptiness within her.

He kissed her again, hold her against his chest, heavy with the feeling and the need to be with her and to be back in her arms again. He feels the wetness of her tears as a sob escapes her, and he knows, somehow that she had kept her tears and pain within, and behind her façade of calm. He pulls her away and kisses away her tears and whispered his promise to her.

"I will always be with you," he tells her, and somehow in his heart he feels its truth. Whether this was yet another dream or another vision that the Goddess Miras wanted him to see, he knew that he needed to let her known. "I will always."

He kisses her and watches her as she falls asleep, and struggles to keep his eyes open as well, but he finds himself slipping. Finds himself tired and slipping, as his eyes close, her warmth against his chest fading. He tries his best to hold onto her.

"No," he whispers, begging for his time with Capable to continue on, to not end. He is feeling his body disappearing once more and returning to the weightlessness and presence of where he had begun it all, engulfed in the darkness and then the brightness, until he was once again in the presence of the Goddess that took hold of him from his death.

"No…please," he says to the master of his current state. He felt his time with Capable was all too real, it being the only one of his experiences that felt of the present. Capable talked to him about his death, the sadness she felt, the love she had for him and for his sacrifice. It had not been of the past, as his prior visions or transportations had been. "Please…" this time he hears his voice aloud in the chamber of bright light, and he looks down to see his body, until before where he could not see himself, but only be present in the bask of the white light.

"Was it a dream?" He asked her, afraid of the answer, and yet wanting to know if what transpired, his vision of his Capable was a test from the Goddess herself.

"It was no dream, Chosen." The voice of the Goddess showered him with a wave of gentleness, echoing in his surrounding, and appearing before him as a bright blue twinkling light before his very eyes.

"Is that my final goodbye to her? Before I past over to Valhalla?"

"You will return to her. This was not a goodbye, but a reminder for her to stay strong and wait for you."

* * *

**CAPABLE**

Who was this woman looking back at her? She wondered if she could even remember or if she knew anymore.

The naked woman who stood in front her, had pale skin, marred by a few cuts and scars, supple busom, and long fiery red hair that fell halfway down her back. Her eyes, they were vibrant pools of green, and the emotions there were endless—sadness, uncertainty and hope—and a stubbornness that she had thought had long disappeared in her many days of mourning.

Capable stared at her naked reflection in the mirror, her lips plump, face flushed, and her body spent. She ran her hands slowly throughout her body, gentle and caressing, remembering her vivid dream which felt so real. The feel of Nux against her, and his lips against her own felt fresh against her skin. It could not be possible, she told herself, remembering Furiousa's words against her.

"The Alchemist, only feed off of your dreams and wants. What you have is only a drug, nothing more. You won't see him, you won't speak to him. There is no 'Otherworld' they speak of. " Furiosa had told her sternly as she shook her head, and held her hand out for Capable to give her the small muslin bag of the dried herbs she had bought. Capable held them close to her, not giving them to the Furiousa. "Capable, there is no use holding on or hoping the impossible." She said softly, "Death is death, and we saw him perish. To consume that and to listen to those hags words will only cause you more pain."

"No," Capable whispered, as she averted her gaze down and studied the dried herbs in her hand. She knew it was foolished to believe in the Blind Alchemist of the Wretched, and yet somehow she had found herself drawn to the streets to find them, drawn to speak with them and found herself not surprised when before she spoke the blind alchemist held to her the herbs that she'd had to brew and consume.

She felt the dream all too real, felt him against her, felt his lips, heard his voice. Her heart affirmed to her that she had seen him, and she tried her best to tell herself that it was a dream, a farewell to her love, a farewell and a sign that she must continue on. With a heavy sigh, she turned away from her reflection, forcing herself to continue on and head the words on Furiousa and to let go.

The feeling in her soul still told her otherwise, the strength in her mind resolve that he was still alive so blatantly clear that, Capable feared that perhaps his Sister was right about her loosing her mind, going crazy as it was.

She turned away from her reflection and step towards the bath that was drawn to her. She wanted to cleanse herself of everything, wishing that she could clear the intense feeling she had in her gut about Nux, wishing that she could easily forget him, or that everything was still a dream and that she would wake up from it all and find herself in a land of Green, like they had been promised.

The water covered her and she bathe herself in the quiet of it all, the bright sun shining through the open windows. It was most likely noon, and she was certain that her Sisters were about the Citadel enjoying their freedom and the outside world.

'I'm always with you,' his words echoed in her mind, only strengthening her resolve. Whatever it was, she wondered if it was a higher power or spirit reaching out to her.

She remembered so clearly a Vulvalina woman telling her of the goddess they worshiped and with whom they believed watched other them, and spoke to them and gave them visions of their future. Capable wondered if there was a goddess or god watching over them all, watching over her and telling her that she could not give up and believe in what her heart and gut told her so strongly.

'He is still out there,' Capable said a loud as she placed herself in the bath that she had drawn, and submerging herself in the cool water. She needed to refresh herself, to get ready afterwards and face Furiosa again.

This time she was going to demand that she joins Furiosa in their next supply run for a final search for Nux. Capable was determined that she needed to see Nux – whether it be his body or not—she needed to know that he was laid to rest or if in fact the gods were right and that he had in deed returned.

* * *

**To Be Continued...**


	10. Chapter 10

**CHAPTER 10**

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.

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**UTSAAH AND THE CHILD**

Hours passed as the child looked on at the glowing body of the War Boy. This time, he watched on as the scars on his lips, nose, cheeks, began to disappear in the red glow. Utsaah sat next to him, his chants becoming louder. The boy kept looking on, as the red glow began to cover the War Boy fully, and a heat began to radiate from him.

"Ut-Utsaah?" The boy whispered, having never seen anything like it before. He was surprise, unsure whether he should stand and scurry away from the body or sit tight next to his mentor. Utsaah ignored him until he finished his chant, and the boy decided to inch back from the body only a short distance.

"It is done." Utsaah says as he lowers his hands to on top of his crossed knees. His eyes open now and looking at the boy.

"Done?" The boy asked, staring at the still Lifeless body of the War Boy. The scars were completely gone from his body, and yet he noticed there was still no rise and fall of his chest.

"Go forth and get the water, he will be thirsty." Utsaah told him as he averted his gaze back to the man in front of him.

The boy did as he was told, although was unsure if it was worth doing. His back was turned to them when he heard a sharp gasp and a voice. He turned around immediately to see the War Boy had gasped for air, saying what came to be a name of sort before trying his might to get up. He rushed by his mentor's side and saw Utsaah stop the awakened War Boy from getting up abruptly with a hand on his chest.

"Ut-Utsah…?" The kid stampered, only causing the War Boys sharp blue eyes averting to his. His eyes were filled with question, as he tried to move again, this time Utsaaah did not stop him.

"Slowly you must allow yourself to stand, my child." He told the War Boy. The kid stammered back as he watched the naked War Boy slowly role over on his side, hearing the movement of his muscle and bones as he slowly tried to stand, only to fail in doing so.

"Child, go and grab this man the blanket," Utsaah tells the boy. The boy did so and brought back a long blanket and gingerly gave it to the War Boy who stared at him for a moment. The child must have been at least 8 years old – reminded him of his childhood days—he had a curiosity about him and a hint of shock. He didn't blame the child who looked back at him with green eyes, and head of auburn hair as bright as those of Capables. He had thought for so long that only Capable would have such a color, but here he was staring up at a child with brown skin, a hair as bright as those of his beloved. The child broke their gaze and looked up at the older man—his father perhaps? Nux asked himself—and the old man nodded his head.

"Here," the child said to him quietly, as he draped the blanket over Nux's naked form. He hand't realized that he had been cold and shivering until he felt the blanket fall upon him. He was still shock and unsure how he had gotten to where he was. All the visions so vivid in his mind, and most importantly the reality that he had sacrificed himself and he had died – he knew it to be true in his gut. Or had he been dreaming it all? He knew this was not a possibility, somehow in his heart he felt that what transpired was for a reason, and somehow he felt that the child and the old man must have the answers.

Nux tried to get his body to move and lay up, but found he was still weak. He faltered back, and rolled over again until he was on his back once more. He was staring at the ceiling of a cave, lit by the firelight. It was evening already, and the red rocks above them was illuminated. These rocks were familiar to him, and yet he was too weak to venture into this thought. The child and Utsaah watched him closely in the silence.

The child was now by the older man's side, grasping a notebook and writing upon it. For the child this was the first time that he had seen someone arise so quickly, especially one whose scars disappeared in the red glow. Utsaah had told him that for each man's path, the Goddess Miras bathed them in new waters, and cleared their body and soul to be anew and prepare them for a new path that would be of greatness.

"Where am I?" The War Boy crocked out as he returned again on his back.

Utsaah raised a hand and ushered the boy to come close to provide water.

"Drink," the kid said as he raised the War Boy's head and gave him water. He watched as he took it eagerly, almost so that he almost emptied the canister. Utsaah only nodded to the boy to let the War Boy do so.

After the canister was finished, Nux said a thank you to the child. Nux all of a sudden felt a warm course through his body and a heaviness in his mind. "What..?" He asked the child, realizing that he had not drank water at all, or if he had there must have been something in there.

The child nodded as he took the empty canister. "You rest," the child told him.

And Nux fell asleep, and the fatigue engulf him and yet it also scared him. Was this another dream?

Another vision like the rest? Would he start to remember his past again, and relive them. Would he awaken to the pain that he often awoken to?

He had a fear grasp him in the edge, only for it to disappear, as a calmness overcomes him and he feels a carress upon his face. "Capable?" He asked, the softness of the touch so clear to him to be only hers. As he closed his eyes he saw her image, as she touched his face gently and kissed him. And then his fear subsided and a gentle calmness overtook him. And for the first time he slept, surrounding by a glowing pool of love and of her love for him.

Utsaah and the child watched as the War Boy closed his eyes and slept.

"Good job, child," Utsaah tells the child. "He has slept a man's sleep and when he awakes he will have his strength once more."

"He whispered a word I've never heard." the child said. "Capable, he said and he smiled."

"Capable. It must be what he seeks."

"What could it be?"

"What it could be is what has given him strength through his journey with Miras. It could be what he must return to."

"When he awakens, will he remember us?"

"He will sleep and when he awakens he will remembers all, including us, Child. We shall assist him on his way, and we shall leave him to his way. Such is our path."

Utsaah watched as his apprentice nodded his head and watched the rise and fall of the War Boy's chest as he slept. This was the second rising the young child witnessed, and the first upon which he kept the closes watch. The child sad vigilantly near the War Boy for a moment, flipping through his notebook to look back at the sketches of the scars and tattoos the man had upon him.

The child was a great apprentice and Utsaah knew that he would make a great Seeker just as he. His curiosity and willingness would be important in his future, for the path for the flowers of Miras was a long one.

Utsaah opened his book and started to chant to the Goddess Miras, to thank her for the War Boys' safe travels back to their realm, and to bid her thanks as she guides him more to his love and his future. The child went next to Utsaah and sat near him and craned his head over to the small booklet he read from, and read each word to himself as they were recited.

* * *

**NUX**

When Nux woke he found himself on the floor, a blanket covering him. He remembered everything, remembered what transpired and of the older man and child who looked after him. In a jolt, he forced himself up, his muscled moving and bones crackling as he adjusted himself to his movement. He no longer felt weak, as he stood in the cave, the sun rising and shining through it.

The blanket discarded beneath his naked form he turned around and called out to those he remembered, only to find the small cave empty, except for the campsite upon which fire had burned off recently, and shoes and clothing (pants and a long, poncho like garb similar to those worn by his caretakers)) and what looked to be a water skin filled with water, and a bag, he would guess had nurishments for him.

As he stood up and felt a strength before him, no longer a weakness that for so long had weighed him. Was he still dreaming? Was this yet another vision, another trek by the Goddess Miras of the afterlife? He finally shook the sleep from himself, and rubbed his hands to his face and jolted as he noticed the smoothness of his face. He gasped as he ran his hand through his face – his nose, his mouth, and cheeks – and then looked down at himself –his arms, chest, legs. He was no longer marked by his scars, something that he was so unfamiliar with. He ran his hands once more throughout his body, and then hurriedly grabbed for his shoulder to see if Larry and Barry were there as well. Nothing but smooth skin.

He stood there in the cave, naked, motionless, trying his might to truly accept that which has happened to him. He turns to the pile of clothes and water and food and in his haste he dresses himself. The pants are quite large for his light body, the bagging fabric loose around his waist until he tightened it with the drawstring. The hooded garb, a brown and golden color of the dessert around them had long sleeves and a hood, to cover his arms and face and to shield from the dessert. It was the clothing of his caretakers, those who nursed him, and who can remember clearly may have been the dessert people, remembering the many times he had encountered them, traded with such people of the dessert, and fault with them in his time as a driver in Immortan Joe's War Boys group.

When fully dressed, he took a sip of the water, forcing himself not to take too much, unsure of when he would find a source to fill it with. His mind raced from the shock of his body's state—which he tried his might to forget, and to not focus on—as he ventured out of the cave, his legs first unsteady, and uncertain. He wondered if this was yet another episode from the Goddess Miras, although he is certain it is not, as he steps out of the cave, and feel the scorching heat of the dessert sun, and the brightness that causes him to shield his eyes.

He almost falters back as he grabs hold of the rock near him, the heat against his palms calming him. No, this certainly was no longer a dream of sorts. He was certain that what it is is truth, he says to himself, as he blinks his eyes. When his eyes settle, to the sight of the canyons and valleys of red rocks and dessert before him, he notices a shuffle of movement to his left and he turned around quickly only to be met with nothingness. He was completely alone now, and those he witnessed and who helped him were gone.

While he knew that he had many questions for what transpired, and he knew that that was much mystery to how he found himself alive and well, he found that in his heart he knew that all was all right.

'Return to her,' he remembers the whisper of the Goddess Miras, faint but clear in his mind just before he opened his eyes and felt his body alive once again.

And he found himself leading towards the sun rise, as he felt himself following an invisible string which he knew led her to the love of his life, and to his salvation.

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**UTSAAH AND THE CHILD**

They stood on a valley not far from the cave, and yet unseen and hidden in the red rocks of their surroundings. They watched at the War Boy stepped out of the mouth of the cave, his body dressed and covered to shield himself from the dust and the hot sun.

The War Boy stood for a while outside the cave, surveying the area, and the boy wondered if he was still wondering if what transpired was still a vision, or if he had accepted that he was alive once more.

'When he awakens we must not be present,' Utsaah mentioned to the child the night before. The boy and Utsaah went outside to watch the sunrise in praise and thanks—a ritual of the Miras tribe to celebrate another life-and wait for the War Boy to awaken. 'We must let him settle in this place, in his restored body and mind alone. This allows him to come to reality, to know what has happened and accept it.' Shortly after their ritual, Utsaah sensed the War Boy would awake, and told his charge to stand close to him and wait until the War Boy left the cave. With a nod, the child stood with Utsaah, his eyes wide as the War Boy shore enough left the cave.

"Miras will still look after him." the child whispered; it was not a question, but a realization in awe. "He will return to 'Capable', I am sure our goddess will make sure of it."

Utsaah looked down at the child who stood near him, and then back at the War Boy as he began to walk away from the cave and continue on his trek. "Yes, my child, Miras will. She sees in this Chosen strength, and he will bring about change in this world."

The child nodded his head, "Will his path be like the one before? The one you spoke of, the Road Warrior?" The child remembered Utsaah speaking to him about another Chosen with he had aided before taking him under his wing. He spoke of great things about this man, a Road Warrior was what he called him. It was known throughout the dessert that he saved many, and yet it still remained that he was but a legend, although the child and their tribe knew better.

"Like the Road Warrior, he is revived for a purpose and his new life will be long. Miras only aids those who will bring about change, and whose heart remains fueled by hope and love."

They watched as the War Boy faded into the distance, certain that he would find his way home in the vast desert wasteland. Miras watched over him now.

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**To Be Continued...**


	11. Chapter 11

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for joining me for this ride. A friendly reminder, I do not own Mad Max but am simply playing 'doll' with the characters. The story and my characters Utsaah and the Child, and the Goddess Miras and its tribes are my own. As mentioned before, I'll be editing the chapters in the future, and wanted to get these chapters out to you as is so that the story is completed and I don't leave you hanging. Please be kind and leave a review and let me know what you think. Reviews are what feed lowly fanfiction writers :) Thanks!

**CHAPTER 11**

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Furiosa looked at the redheaded young woman sitting next to her. She knew Capable well and that she was a stubborn woman, and knew that the only way for her to fully allow her to realize that she had to move on was to take her on the excursion she requested. And here they were, traveling once more with a group of Scavenger War Boys towards the canyons where not too long ago the rig explosion took the lives of Immortan Joe and Capable's beloved.

Furiosa knew that it was futile to remind Capable that afer the event of that explosion, days after she took reign as the new ruler of the Citadel, that a band of War Boys and herself returned there to look for the bodies and see what remained from the fight. The nearby tribe of the canyons left the bodies of the dead there—at least those that were not burned to crisped—intact and only took with them the wheels and metal remains from the vehicles and the rig. She doesn't tell Capable that everyone found the bodies of the dead War Boys, except hers, and that they found the crisped and burnt bodies of Immortan Joe along with his mask. It was almost unrecognizable, but the flames and the explosion pretty much obliterated them.

Furiosa wondered if Nux's body was burn to ash, like the bodies of some of those who were in the fight. She keeps her mouth shut because she doesn't want to ever tell Capable, because she no longer wanted to hear once more about her conviction that her War Boy was alive. She was already preparing herself for the emotional downfall that would befall capable once it hit her that the trip was for naught, and that her War Boy was in deed gone and dead.

So they sat there in silence, as Capable peered out into the barren wasteland. Her red hair flapping in the wind, her eyes searching the surrounding. They were half way close to the canyons, she knew, as she saw the surroundings change, and hills, mountains, and rocky stones began to cover the earth.

Capable was lost in her thoughts that it took her a moment to notice that the War Boys in front of them had slowed down their vehicles until they stopped. She turned to Furiosa who stopped their vehicle soon after, and was about to open her mouth to question what was going on before Furiosa spoke.

"Stay here," she said, "I'm going to check it out."

Capable watched as Furiosa turned off the vehicle and hopped out and walked towards the War Boys, some of whom were walking out of their vehicles. Capable peered out of the window, but could not see anything. She did notice that the War Boys were silent—something odd as often times they spoke their war calls, and banter, and readied themselves to fight when they encountered something in the desert. 'What could it be?' she thought, as she found hserlf drawn towards whatever it was that stopped them.

Against Furiosa's bidding, Capable opened the door and stepped out of the vehicle. The wind was stronger now, and the dust blew ever slightly. She covered her shawl with her head with the grey shall she carried, and covered her mouth with it slightly. She walked towards the scene before her, making her way from the behind the other vehicles and the War Boys who stood. Something in her tugged at her being, causing her to continue to walk on, until she was behind Furiosa who stood quiet herself, her brow furrowed as she turned to Capable and caught her eyes.

"Capable…" she whispered, "I-I don't know how…" Furiosa was lost at a words, and Capable ended their gaze and looked past her and saw what it was that caused the commotion. Her green eyes clashed with bright blue ones, as at first her body stayed still, as if time stopped.

"You return…" she whispered, and it was as if he heard her. Her War Boy stood in front of them, dressed and covered, almost unrecognizable in his clothing similar to those of the canyon tribes, except for his barren face, when he took off his hood. His skin was still light, yet had a flash of color that it did not have before, shis head still shaven, yet his face was smooth from the scars.

Capable found her body once more and began to walk towards him, as he to her, but was stopped by Furiosa. "Capable, you don't know if this is not a trick or—"

Capable released Furiosa's hold. "It's him. I know." She simply said as she went towards Nux and he to her.

Furiosa watched as they embraced, watched the tears from both their eyes as Capable touched his face and they kissed. She saw the solidness upon which the War Boy held her in his arms, embraced her. Odd how he had a strength about him, unfamiliar to how she remembered him.

"Has he…returned from Valhalla?" One of the War Boys whispered behind Furiosa as they all looked one at the anomaly and mystery before them.

The War Boys and Furiosa watched as the two embraced, speechless. Furiosa questioned her doubt of the Goddessed that were to look over them, and wondered if all a long Miss Gitty was not crazy at all, having spoken about the greater powers among them.

"Miracles," Miss Gitty had told Furiosa.

"Miracles," Furiosa turned to the War Boy, "This is a miracle."

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**FIN.**


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